


Elsinore

by ju4jen



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-26
Updated: 2012-06-26
Packaged: 2017-11-08 14:50:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 40,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/444361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ju4jen/pseuds/ju4jen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared and Jensen return to their hometown of Dallas, after the death of Jensen’s father and the hasty remarriage of his mother.  Once there, the horrific truth draws them into a tragedy that neither of them could have anticipated and which threatens not only their friendship but their very lives.  A re-imagining of Shakespeare’s “Hamlet” set in modern times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elsinore

Elsinore

ACT ONE, SCENE 1

Jared stepped out of the elevator into darkness.  He took a moment to allow his eyes to adjust, aware of the breathing of his companion close behind him, but also of a heavy silence permeating the whole floor.  The corridor was bare and clean under the discrete security lighting. 

Jared glanced along the corridor, and at the row of closed doors.  Then he turned round to look at the other man.  He grinned faintly.   He had no idea why Wisdom had insisted that he, and he alone, had to be dragged into what could only be a practical joke, but he could feel an underlying unease because Wisdom himself looked nervous.  And that was strange because Robert Wisdom – Chief of Elsinore Corporation’s security team -- usually radiated good humor and calm.  He was either a good actor or . . .

He’d been back in Dallas for only a few hours, keeping his head down, keeping out of the way, when Wisdom had knocked on his apartment door and asked to have a quiet word.  He had responded with disbelief at Wisdom’s fantastic tale, but allowed the corporation’s Chief of Security to drag him away from the residential floors of the tower.  He hadn’t expected to be brought up fifty-four stories to the very top of the Elsinore Plaza and to the executive offices suite.

The quiet was suddenly broken by a fierce crackle from Wisdom’s radio followed by a flicker from the security lighting.  Startled, Jared froze.  Then he heard footsteps.

 A looming shadow rounded a corner.  Distorted and monstrous,  it moved across the walls in front of the two men.

Wisdom reacted immediately, grabbing his weapon and moving to stand directly in front of Jared.  

Jared, despite his suddenly increased heart rate, wasn’t happy hiding behind another man.  He moved forward so they were standing shoulder to shoulder.  He heard careful footsteps and then saw a dark figure approach around a corner.  He caught his breath as he recognized another gun raised and pointed directly at the two of them.

Wisdom, eyes wide, raised his firearm higher still, and Jared decided that perhaps this wasn’t a practical joke after all.

“Who is it?” came a gruff, but careful call.  “Wisdom?”

“Yeh!”  Wisdom called lowering his gun as he recognized the newcomer.  The other weapon was lowered too.

“Oh, thank god,” came a gruff reply.  “Do you have Padalecki with you?”

“Yeh, what’s left of him anyway!” Jared replied, heart still beating too strongly, 

With both weapons now holstered, Wisdom greeted a shorter, older man, then turned to introduce him to Jared.

“Mr. Padalecki, this is Fred Lehne.  He’s been doing the sweeps on these floors the last few nights.” Jared nodded to the other man, noting the fine sheen of sweat covering the man’s well worn face and the wide spaced out eyes.   Just as Wisdom was on edge, here was another scent of fear wafting from yet another of Elsinore’s normally composed and tough-as-nails security detail.

“Have you seen it again tonight?”  Wisdom asked, eyes flickering nervously about.

Lehne shook his head.

“Mr. Padalecki says we’re imagining things or we’re having a laugh!  I don’t think he believed me,” Wisdom continued, turning to Jared.  “But sir, it’s true.  And we have both seen it twice now.”  Jared was a little more convinced they were speaking the truth but still . . . the whole idea seemed preposterous. 

“Anyway, if you watch with us tonight, then you’ll have to believe us . . . and maybe, you can find out what it wants.”  Wisdom continued.

Jared’s smile was faint..  “Man, there’s no such thing as ghosts, but something sure has you spooked.  What I don’t understand is why you think I can help?” 

The other two men glanced at each other significantly.

“If you’d hear us out, Sir . . .”  Lehne pleaded, and there was something so incongruous about the tough guy holding a gun, yet with terror showing so clearly in his face, that Jared could not help but take the man seriously.

“So what did you see . . .?” he asked.

“We were doing our sweep – as we always do about this time of night.”

“This time?  Both nights?”  Jared asked.

“Yeah, just as the bell over at St. Saviours rang for one o’clock,” Lehne clarified but then broke off as Wisdom hissed for silence.

The lights flickered violently and the temperature dropped considerably.   Jared could actually see a thin mist of breath as he breathed out.  Wisdom and Lehne had backed up against each other and had both drawn their revolvers from their holsters again, their frightened faces clear in the flickering light.  A cold chill worked its way down Jared’s spine.  Something had frightened these men  – this was no joke.

“Look!” whispered the Chief of Security.  “There it is again!”




“Jesus, it looks like the old boss!”  hissed Lehne from Jared’s left.

“You speak to it!” Wisdom elbowed Jared.  And suddenly Jared realized why these two men had come to him.

“It bloody looks like Jeffrey Dean...  didn’t I say?”  Lehne was still muttering under his breath, gun shaking in his raised hands.  Jared had to agree.  It was indeed Jeffrey Dean, clear as a day and larger than life.  Jared’s blood ran icy in his veins.   The pale figure opened its mouth as if to speak.

Despite his own terror, Jared stepped forward, the weight of the other men’s expectations heavy upon him.  

“Who -- who are you?”  he stuttered.  “What are you doing here?  What do you want?”

But the vision turned away.

“You pissed it off!”  Wisdom exclaimed.

“It’s going!”  Lehne added.  And indeed the figure was fading quickly until it disappeared altogether.

The three of them stood breathing heavily for a moment as the security lights powered up fully. They didn’t say anything for a while.

“So, lad,” Lehne finally said,  actually having the gall to look smug, “do you believe us now?”

Jared was still staring where the apparition had appeared.

“I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes,” he managed to answer, turning back to his companions.  “Fucking hell . . .”

“Ain’t it just like the old man?”  Wisdom pressed.

“Spitting image,” answered Jared again.  “I’ve seen him glowering like that loads of times”  His recollections of JD storming out of a meeting room, or yelling at his staff  were still as sharp and awe-inspiring as they had been when they had first made a big impression on him as a young boy.

“This is the third night in a row,” Wisdom continued.  “Always at one o’clock, and always looking so angry.”

“This can’t be good,” Jared mused in return.  “What do they say about ghosts?  Harbingers of doom?”  He smiled but the sense of unease was growing.

Both the other men nodded seriously and Jared fought down an urge to laugh.  Three grown men discussing ghosts in urgent whispers, standing outside . . . hmmm . . .  the security lights were dimmer than the usual daytime lights, and Jared hadn’t recognized where Wisdom had led him at first but now he realized they were standing outside of Jeffrey Dean’s old office (vacant at the moment, but soon to be occupied by the new Chief Executive Officer of the Corporation if the meeting tomorrow went as planned).  It figured.  If JD was going to haunt any place in the building it would be here.

“It’s only been the last couple of nights?” Jared asked.

Lehne nodded and then added,   “But I don’t understand. Why now?” 

“We might not part of the movers and shakers around here, but we notice things, ”  Wisdom said.  “That’s why we’ve come to you.  You’d understand, being so close to the family and all  . . . is there anything going on that could disturb a ghost from its rest?  Everyone seems on tenterhooks, lots of rushed meetings and raised voices . . .but would that, could that . . .maybe this . . .this thing . . . have something to do with that?” His plea to Jared was obvious.

Jared turned the idea over in his head.  Oh yes, the world was a fucked up place at the moment, and none knew better than him, but a ghost?   And not just any ghost.  Jensen’s father, no less.   _Shit_

“There are some big deals going down.  That’s what’s causing all the bother. ” he answered carefully.  “Do you remember when Fortinbras Holdings tried that takeover bid years ago?  When JD turned the tables and  wiped them out?  Fortinbras Jr, maybe seeking revenge,  has decided to take advantage of the . . . well, the vulnerability of Elsinore at the moment and is stirring up trouble with the shareholders.”  Jared couldn’t help but admire the young man’s posturing even if he did think it foolish.  Elsinore Corporation was probably the biggest company in the country, and only the very confident -- or insane -- would take it on.

“But that’s just business . . . it wouldn’t bring on a case of the ghouls, surely?”  Wisdom asked. 

Jared remained silent, not wanting to comment on some of the other family business he knew about. 

“Will it appear again?”  he asked.  But they had no chance to answer.  Both their radios crackled and the lights flickered again.

“There it is!”  Jared shouted, as he caught site of the paleness.  He ran a little way towards it. “Stay!”

The apparition stood as it did before, turning its awful gaze upon him.

“Answer me!” exhorted Jared, the unnatural cold condensing his breath into curling wreaths of mist.  “What do you want? “  But he didn’t have the courage to approach closer.  Finally, the apparition turned its disgusted expression to the door and faded into the office.  Jared found his feet and ran to the door.  It was locked, and he huffed impatiently as Wisdom fumbled to find his master keys.

It was too late.  The office was empty.

“Put the guns away!” Jared cried as the two other men tumbled into the room after him, firearms waving wildly in the air.

“I’m sure it was going to speak!”  Wisdom said quietly as they began to get their breathing back under control again.

Jared ran his hands through his hair, barely listening to the panicked conversation around him.

“It was!  But then did you see how it jumped as if startled or called away?”  Lehne answered.

Jared began to distractedly pace around the room where just moments ago the ghost of his best friend’s father had vanished.  He toyed with the idea of urging a promise from these men to never mention a word about this to anyone.  But he couldn’t.  If Jensen ever found out that the ghost of his father was haunting the upper floors of his Company’s building -- and Jared had not told him -- Jensen would never forgive him.

“I’ll tell Jensen in the morning.  The ghost seems reluctant to talk to us -- perhaps it will talk to him.”  Jared faced the two other men.  “Do you agree?”

“I think, as this might be a sensitive issue to the rest of the family, that going to Mr. Jensen instead would be a good idea.  It’s why we came to you in the first place.  He’ll listen to you, sir,” Wisdom verbally agreed as Lehne nodded, relief evident in both men’s faces. 

“Good.”  Jared was less than enthusiastic.  He had been trying to keep a low profile since his return to Dallas.  “We’ll tackle him in the morning.”  He took one last look around the room and along the corridor.  He didn’t like the idea, but Jensen needed to be told.

  


ACT ONE, Scene 2

Jared slipped into the large hall a little late, having slept through his alarm after the excitement of the previous night.  His eyes quickly scanned the room, passing over the heads of the shareholders, searching for one figure.

Jensen.

Jensen Ross Ackles sat at the dais with the other Company executives but still managed to look as out of place sitting there as a twenty dollar whore at a debutante’s ball.  He was lounging, seat pulled back away from the table.  Instead of a smartly tailored suit, he was wearing skinny black jeans and his old tatty black Zeppelin tee, complete with the seams coming apart on his right shoulder.  Head down, short spikes of hair in disarray and several days’ worth of growth on his face, he obviously hadn’t bothered to dress up for the meeting.  Jared had heard on the sly that Jensen had barely found the energy to get dressed at all, not even stepping outside of his suite in the past few weeks.  If that was true, then perhaps being dressed, albeit casually, and out of his rooms, was a positive.   

Jared was shocked at how thin and pale his friend had become since he had last seen him, but even more by the stark unhappiness on Jensen’s face.

Jared moved carefully around the outside of the packed room. As the shareholders had come out in force there was standing room only, and barely enough of that.  He wove his way through the throng, careful not to make a disturbance or be noticed by those at the dais.

Jensen wasn’t going to be best pleased when he saw him.  He’d begged -- well, practically ordered -- Jared to stay at Harvard after receiving notice of the unexpected death of Jeffrey Dean several weeks ago.  Neither of them wanted to get re-involved in the family politics that they had worked so hard to escape from.  Jensen, as JD’s only child, had no choice.  Jared, however, was a free agent, and Jensen refused to let Jared get drawn back in.  Neither of them had been happy living in the Elsinore Plaza and both of them had fought hard to put distance between themselves and the lives they had once lived within its steel and glass frame.

They had argued furiously. Jared could see the desperation and pain in Jensen’s face and didn’t want him to return home alone.  Ultimately, he’d agreed because Jensen, although unsuited to the world and machinations of big business, still had the family’s stubborn streak and when that dark gaze, narrowed and implacable, had turned upon him, he realized that it was no use continuing to fight.  So he continued with his studies, and Jensen took the dreaded flight back to Dallas.

Jensen had been gone for some time, with only brief texts keeping Jared updated – hurtfully impersonal, short texts – that only served to build the anxiety and frustration in the young man left behind.  That is, until a wall of front page news articles in the library’s foyer had brought Jared up short.  He was on a plane to Dallas within two hours. 

However much he hated Dallas and the tower, Jared wasn’t the type of friend to just abandon someone because things could get sticky. He knew without any doubt, that Jensen needed him here.  But that didn’t assure him of a warm welcome.

His return was understated and quiet, the oppressive air of the tower settling over him like a heavy blanket the instant he walked through the doors. The atrium was a huge space, fourteen stories high, with balconies on each floor overlooking the ostentatiously baroque fountain that greeted visitors on entry to the tower. It was familiar, but no longer home for Jared. 




 Jared had made quick visits to a couple of friends in the tower and been made to understand that security had been ordered to keep everyone away from ‘the family’ and that there was an extraordinary shareholders meeting the following morning.  He holed himself up in his small apartment on one of the less impressive residential floors until Wisdom had come knocking on the door.  His arrival hadn’t gone unnoticed by the Chief of Security.

As he edged his way around the perimeter of the meeting room, he caught a brief glance of both Wisdom and Lehne poised and ready in case of incidents.  He continued moving until he reached close to the front, but still largely masked from the participants on the dais, and leant against the side wall, waiting for the show to end.   Then he began to pay attention to what was happening.  Apparently it was later than Jared had thought – the meeting was just closing.

Kurt Fuller was speaking.  A tall, intimidating man, he shared some of the physical appearance of his half brother. But whereas Jeffrey Dean was a man who favoured casual, Kurt was stiff and starched in his Paul Smith suit, groomed to perfection.  Jared disliked him immensely.  Pompous, arrogant dick.  He wasn’t even real family.  He was Jeffrey Dean’s mother’s son from her first marriage.

“In conclusion, Fortinbras Jr. has been guilty of underestimating Elsinore Corporation, and we have a majority vote to open negotiations with Ed Norway, his uncle, to see if he can rein in the young whippersnapper.   He, at least, should be able see the error in trying to take on a mighty corporation like Elsinore.”

 There were a few chuckles around the auditorium at that.  Fuller smiled grimly, and then paused, swallowing strongly, but maintaining a confident gaze over the shareholders.

“I know it has not been long since the death of my dear brother, and I know that we are all still grieving for his tragic loss, but it is now time for Elsinore Corporation to look to the future.  As your new CEO, let me assure you of my continued commitment and dedication.  With your support, I am sure that we can build Elsinore into a company that can withstand the vagaries and economic uncertainty of these times, and leave a legacy for our future descendents.”

There was ripple of applause followed by a murmur of approval.  So Fuller had managed to ascend to the top of the corporate ladder.  Jared grimaced and wished he’d arrived earlier.  His portfolio, inherited from his parents, still held significant numbers of shares in the company.  Perhaps the vote had been close and his shares could have made the difference. 

“Finally, I would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone for their kind wishes for my marriage to Samantha, once my sister-in-law and now my joint partner, in life as well as business.”  Fuller turned to the blond woman sitting straight, and a little nervously, at his side. Fuller raised his chin more highly, challenging, but there was no need.  There wasn’t a murmur of dissent or disapproval.  Jared felt sick to his stomach and watched Jensen even more closely.   But Jensen continued to sit as if carved from stone, head bowed, eyes lowered to the ground, not a twitch to acknowledge he was hearing these words.

The shareholders had panicked when Jeffrey Dean had died, unexpectedly and long before retirement age. His presence in the company was so large and his control so complete that there had been no obvious choices to replace him.  A few, loyal to the family, had turned to Jensen, but Jared knew that Jensen had no interest in the business, had never had shown any interest in it at all, and had only wanted to be left alone to his books and studies.

Then Kurt had surprised everyone with his well-organized campaign to stand for the role of CEO, despite having had only minimal previous contact with the company.  He was an imposing presence, reassuringly large, and he did have  experience running many smaller companies.  The shareholders had flocked to him gratefully.  Jared, watching the business news and scouring the financial papers, had kept track of the developments from Boston.

Jared had to admire the man even if he did actively dislike him.  But it wasn’t Fuller’s new position in the company that had so alarmed him and sent him running back to Dallas.  No, it was his new position in the family. Now that had been a shock.  To see Fuller’s smug, smiling face next to Samantha’s cool, composed features, staring from the front pages of the world’s press.  Jeffrey Dean’s wife – Jensen’s mother -- had married Fuller not three months after the death of her husband.   Jared had jumped on the next flight back to Texas.

The meeting now concluded, the hall began to empty of attendees, except those at the dais who sat waiting.  They continued to sit until the last of the chattering shareholders left. There was obviously more to come.  Jared waited quietly, still unnoticed.

“And the next item?”  Kurt looked towards Jim Beaver, chief legal counsel of Elsinore Corporation and frequent Chair of the shareholder’s meetings.

“About the vacancy in the Paris Office, Mr. Fuller?”   Beaver’s voice rose from the other end of the table.

“Ah yes,” Kurt smiled  down the table, and Jared could only think of some wild animal about to pounce on its prey.

“Misha, step forward,” the big man continued.  Every head turned to a dark haired young man standing at the opposite side of the hall from where Jared was leaning.  Jared started.  Like him, the other man had been unobserved and unobtrusive in the previous meeting.

“I don’t need to introduce you to our new CEO of Elsinore Corporation’s Paris division.”  Kurt looked pleased with himself.  “Misha is very well known to us from his outstanding work in our European offices, and, of course, is practically one of the familyI know that our holdings in France will be in safe hands.”   

Jensen had finally raised his head to look at their old school friend, the small movement attracting Jared’s attention.  But Jensen’s face remained bland and his eyes inscrutable. 

As he climbed the few steps of the dais, Misha caught sight of Jared and raised his hand in not quite a wave but still a greeting.  And Jensen, tracking Misha’s glance, finally noticed Jared.  A stormy expression crossed his face, and Jared shuffled uncomfortably under the heat of Jensen’s gaze.

If any other member of the board had noticed Jared, they didn’t show it.  They had all risen to greet Misha, and moved to shake his hand.  There was a deal of laughter and ebullient congratulations.  Misha laughed along, only slightly wincing as his shoulder was clapped firmly again and again as he made his way down the line of executive officers, all the while rolling his eyes and smirking at Jared.  Jared wasn’t fooled.  Misha might mock, but he would be delighted with his new promotion.

“Thank you for this marvellous opportunity,”  Misha said as he took the new CEO’s hand – Misha always had been a smarmy flatterer– “and I would like to request permission to fly out as soon as possible now that things here have settled down in a satisfactory manner.” His tone was complimentary but Jared could hear the edge of distaste in his voice.

“What do you say about that, Jim?”  Kurt turned to Misha’s father. 

Jim shrugged.  “He’s a grown man, boss.“  Beaver answered gruffly, eliciting more chuckles from along the table.

Jared watched as Samantha leaned in to kiss Misha’s cheek, whispering briefly in his ear.  When Misha finally reached Jensen, he was rewarded with full attention and a simple, heart felt hug.  Misha whispered something and then nodded towards Jared waiting on the floor.   Jensen’s frown deepened.  Jared swallowed down his nerves.  Jensen was definitely not happy about his appearance whatever Misha was advising.

Shit.

The meeting now truly over, Misha jumped down to greet his old friend while the other executives huddled around the newly married couple, shaking hands and giving insincere congratulations.  Jensen remained on the dais, separate and glowering.

“Didn’t know you were here, Jay.  What’s up?”  Misha clapped Jared on the back as Jared drew him into a hug.

“Ah, you know . . .Jensen.”  Jared gave as an explanation. Misha nodded in understanding, his clear blue eyes clouding a little.  The three of them were close friends. They had grown up together, the children of important people within the corporation.  The only difference between them was that Misha loved the tower and everything about the corporation, whereas Jensen and Jared couldn’t wait to get out as soon as they could.

“Hmm... it’s been tough but he ain’t helping himself.  You know how he can get, all tangled up, and miserable.  Multiply that by a thousand and you’ll have his current mood.  I haven’t been able to see him since he rolled back into town.   But I daresay he’ll improve now you’re back – that’s if you survive the experience!”  Jared grimaced at the reminder, and Misha grinned.   

“Damn it, I’m off back to France later today, but are you free for lunch?  It’ll be great to catch up.”

Jared nodded.

 “Bring him to lunch with you . . .if he ever forgives you,” he nodded towards Jensen, now alone on the dais except for his mother, stepfather and Jim Beaver.  They looked as though they wanted to speak to him but were hesitant.  Jensen himself was glaring at his two old school friends.

“What about Scars, in what?  About an hour?”  Misha continued.  “Do you know it?  They do a wicked steak.”   Misha paused, his face becoming more serious as he contemplated Jared.  “Don’t let him walk all over you, man.  You know he needs you, right?  Whatever he says, you’re the only one he wants now.”

Jared swallowed the bitter bile rising in his throat.  Misha was full of shit. Jensen never really wanted Jared.  Not ever.  Needed him?  Maybe.   But very definitely, Jensen did not _want_ Jared.

Misha was unwavering in his regard, until Jared answered with a rough,  “Scars, one o’clock!”  Misha apparently knew exactly what was flickering through Jared’s brain, and his departing hug was sincere and sympathetic.

Knowing that he had to face Jensen’s displeasure sooner rather than later, Jared made a move to join Jensen on the dais, Jensen watched him all the way, his stance showing his anger.  But Fuller had now approached Jensen and was addressing him directly.  Jensen waited long enough to make his action seem disrespectful and then turned round to face his stepfather.

Neither Kurt nor Samantha acknowledged Jared’s presence, but Jared expected that.  He had always been largely ignored, and, in recent years, had even been looked on with suspicion and disgust.  It hadn’t bothered him for a long time, as  both he and Jensen were safe in Boston, but Jared felt old emotions rising again.  He looked on as Jensen insolently looked Kurt Fuller up and down.

“What?”  Jensen almost snarled out the question.

“Jensen. Son.  What are we going to do about you?”

Jensen narrowed his eyes.   Jared could see the muscles across Jensen’s shoulder tighten whipcord taut.

“You are not my father, so you have no right to call me son!”  Jensen growled.  Jared winced and moved  closer.   Jensen’s mother, a little concerned, came to stand behind her son, her long, elegant hands reaching to touch his shoulders gently.   Jensen tensed up even further at her first touch.

“Jensen, darling.  We are all sad about your father, but you need to stop this.  He would not want you to grieve so hard.  Why does it seem to rest so heavily on you?”  Samantha’s voice was soothing and quiet.

 “Seems, mother?  Seems?”  Jensen pulled away angrily.  “I’m not doing this for show; I am not acting a part. _My feelings_ run deeper than that.”    Jared felt like applauding at the underlying insult in Jensen’s words but also knew that Jensen’s anger would antagonize Fuller.  Not always a wise move.

 “Look, your grief for your father is admirable, Jensen,” Fuller responded impatiently.  “But life goes on.  We all lose people.  Your father lost his own father.  Those of us who are left behind must, of course, grieve for their loss but this self pity, this wallowing is not manly!”  Kurt’s words were harsh and insensitive.  “Enough of this, now.  And as for you returning to Harvard, your mother has made it very plain that she would like you to stay.”

“Yes, please, Jensen!   Just stay for a little longer!” beseeched Samantha. 

Jared groaned inwardly.  His plans for his friend had all involved flying back to Harvard, as soon as possible.  To get Jensen away from here.

Jensen’s anger suddenly drained away, leaving only dejection and sorrow.  Face drawn, arms clutched tightly around his body, a storm of conflict clouding his expression.  Only Jared really understood how torn Jensen would be – there was so much expectation surrounding him, so many people demanding his attention, and it had taken so much effort for him to be able to leave it all behind so he could do what he wanted to do with his own life.

“I suppose . . . fine.  I’ll stay.”  He finally answered.

“Excellent!” his new stepfather responded with false sincerity, “and perhaps while you are here we can interest you in a little of the business.”  Jensen simply turned away in response, directly into Jared who was now standing very close behind him.  Jared’s arms twitched, wanting to fold Jensen in a hug, but Kurt was already sneering and he didn’t want to give the man any ammunition.

“And I shall expect you at the celebrations tonight.  We’ll drink a toast to new beginnings!”  Kurt continued.  Then, casting his pale, cold gaze over Jared, he grabbed Jensen’s mother and pulled her away.

Jared waited patiently until Kurt and his wife filed out of the meeting room and the hall was empty save for himself, Jensen and the two waiting security men.  He waved them off for a while when they started to approach.

The two of them stood for a few seconds, Jensen staring at the buttons of Jared’s shirt.  They were both standing so close that Jared could feel Jensen’s warmth.  It made his stomach flip, and before he could do anything he would later regret, he took a step back.   Jensen raised his eyes.  Jared hoped for softness and happiness but only saw a challenge in those dark depths.

“What are you doing here?” Jensen asked.  “I thought we had agreed you were going to stay in Boston.”

“I thought we had too,” Jared replied a little unhappily at the cold welcome, even though he was expecting it, “but I thought it would be fun to skip out for a while.”

Jensen snorted.

“As if, Jay.  You’d no sooner skip a class than I would.”  The corner of Jensen’s mouth twitched as a spark of amusement banished the shadows in his eyes but it was only for a fraction of a second, and Jared watched in dismay as the spark faded leaving only pain

“I think you came to see my mother’s wedding.”

“Hmmm . . . it followed your father’s funeral pretty promptly,” Jared responded truthfully.  “I saw the newspapers.”

Jensen snorted again.  “We served up the leftovers from his wake for the wedding breakfast.”

“I had to come.”   Jared stepped closer but felt awkward.  “Jensen“Jensen?   Are you all right?” he continued as the other man turned away.

“I was trying to keep you out of this.” Jensen’s voice was rough.

“I know, but some friend I would be, if I left you alone with all this shit!”  Jared returned.  Truthfully, he’d been hurt by Jensen’s decision to come back to Dallas alone, but had long ago learned to live with Jensen’s almost pathological self-reliance and stubbornness. 

The darkness left and Jensen looked at him with a faint smile on his face.  Then he rolled his eyes.  Jared was just as headstrong and stubborn as his friend.  Jared tried out a small grin as he felt the air clearing a little.  Misha was right, Jensen really did need him.  And Jensen knew it.  

“Are you all right?”  Jared repeated, knowing in his heart that, at that moment, nothing was right for Jensen. 

Jensen’s face fell. “I wish I could just disappear,” he answered, suddenly turning Jared’s blood to ice. 

Jared couldn’t help himself.  He grabbed Jensen and pulled him into a tight hug.  Jensen didn’t respond for a moment but then relaxed into the embrace, his arms wrapping around Jared just as hard.  Jared felt Jensen give a shuddering breath, then he pulled away slightly to look down into his face.

Jensen looked back, eyes dry but pain powerfully evident. 

Jensen always carried a certain amount of darkness with him.  Never matching his father’s expectations of him, he had found the company oppressive and needy for the only child of the charismatic and brilliant Jeffrey Dean. Jensen had never reconciled his own wants and desires with those all around him and carried his guilt, and the sense that he was letting everyone down, into self hatred and a sense of worthlessness.  Only Jared knew how close Jensen had been on giving up his dreams.  Finally, Jensen, with the full encouragement of both Jared and Misha, had mounted a campaign of terror and rebellion until his parents had been forced to let him go and chase his dreams at Harvard.   At university, he was able to distance himself, and reach some equilibrium.  Back inside the steel cage of the Elsinore Plaza, however, and in such circumstances . . .

Jared knew Jensen would be blaming himself – if only he had stayed on, if only he had taken up a position with the company, if only he had kept his father happy.  Then, maybe Jeffrey Dean would still be alive, maybe Fuller would still be on the outside, maybe his mother wouldn’t have gone through with this inexplicable marriage.  Jared knew Jensen would be feeling this because he knew his friend better than he knew himself.

“How the hell did this happen?  He’s only been dead a couple of months – not even that much.  And when you compare the two of them – Fuller isn’t even worthy to have tied Dad’s shoelaces.  Are the shareholders so desperate to have ‘family’ in charge that they would support this piece of nothing?  There are plenty of sharp, clever vice presidents who could easily take on the mantle of CEO – why Fuller? 

“And how could she?  Dad loved her so much, gave her everything she wanted.  Fucking woman.  One minute she’s sobbing uncontrollably over Dad’s coffin and the next... not even a month later, she’s marrying that... that... bastard... my so-called fucking uncle!”  Jared forgave Jensen the exaggeration, allowing the words to flow over him, simply letting Jensen release his pent-up feelings.

“This isn’t natural, it isn’t good,” Jensen’s anger caused him to shake, and he was now gripping Jared’s shirt with such force that his knuckles were turning white. 

“And, God, I’ve missed you so much.  Didn’t have anybody to talk to!  You’re always fucking right, aren’t you?  You should have come back with me!”

Jared smiled a little at this roundabout apology and felt his insides flood with heat.  Suddenly, he was very aware of how close Jensen was standing.  He awkwardly pulled back, glancing quickly at Wisdom and Lehne, who were waiting patiently just outside of hearing distance.  Jensen looked speculatively between the security men and Jared, and raised an eyebrow.

“I was just remembering your Dad,” Jared mentioned softly as if in answer.  “You remember how he would roar at us when he found us hiding in his office?  Jeez, he used to terrify me.  And the way he stalked around the offices, with all the staff scattering and pissing themselves.  He was just magnificent, even if he did give me nightmares.”

Jensen laughed quietly.

“Bloody hell, Jay.  He was just a man.”

“He was a monster, Jen, and you know it!”

“Yeah, but he was my Dad all the same, and I shall never meet anyone else like him,” Jensen responded, but some of the darkness had lifted and there was now a glimmer of light in his eyes.  Jared, his hands still itching to hold onto Jensen, pushed unwanted, inappropriate feelings back down where they belonged.  He stepped even further away.

Jensen widened his eyes a little in surprise, but, perhaps sensing Jared’s discomfort, didn’t follow him.

 “I . . . I saw him last night,”  Jared stuttered and then watched the fragile brightness in Jensen’s eyes die again.

“Who?”

“Your Dad.”  Jared answered maintaining his steady look at his friend, despite Jensen’s obvious growing agitation.

“My Dad?”  There was a touch of betrayal, or hurt underpinning the question, almost as if he couldn’t bear that now his best friend was messing with him too.

“Yeah, “ Jared combed his fingers through his hair nervously, “I know it seems unbelievable, but if you’ll just listen to me, and to these guys.”  He beckoned Wisdom and Lehne over.

“OK.”  Jensen waited, eyes now shuttered and blank.  Hating that look, Jared reached out for his friend but Jensen jerked out of reach as if Jared was poison.  That hurt.  But Jensen was still listening, so he retold the story of the ghost’s appearance during the security sweep.

“Then I watched with them last night.  Jesus, Jen, I didn’t believe them at first, but it was your father.  Clear as the nose on my face.”

“Where was this?” 

“Up on the fifty-fourth floor, Mr. Jensen, by your Daddy’s office,” Wisdom answered.  Jensen looked at the man steadily.  Robert Wisdom was a well respected member of the company.  Jensen had known him for many, many years and Jared knew that Wisdom’s words would be taken seriously.

“Did it speak?”

“I tried questioning it but it... he didn’t answer.  I thought maybe... he looked like he might, but then he was startled and he disappeared,” Jared continued to speak softly, soothingly.

“This is very strange.” Jensen was pacing along the dais now, shaking.

“I know.  But it’s true, I promise,” Jared concluded.  Jensen walked right up to square off with Jared, stepping right into his personal space and staring at him, eyes intense and desperately searching for the truth.

“What the hell?... Jay?”  His tone  was hesitant, questioning and anxious rather than challenging.

Jared shook his head and shrugged.  He couldn’t help Jensen because he didn’t understand either.  He could only tell his friend the truth of what he saw.  He felt a rush of relief when Jensen obviously found what he was looking for and backed off.

“Are you on detail tonight?”  Jensen turned to the two men standing discretely behind Jared.

“I can make sure we are, Mr. Jensen,” the Chief of Security answered.

“You’re sure it was my father?”  They both nodded at him.

“How did he look?  Angry?”

“A little... a bit sad too.”  Jared answered.

“I wish I had seen it.”  Jared couldn’t answer the terrible yearning he heard in his friend’s voice.  JD had died before he and Jensen had chance to sort their relationship out.

Jensen thought a while, eyes still wide.  “I will come up tonight and see for myself. Do you think he will come again tonight?”

“Very possibly.”  Jared answered.

“And if he is my father, I’ll speak to him even if all the hounds of hell try to stop me,” Jensen turned back to Wisdom and Lehne.  “And please, don’t tell anyone.”  The two nodded gravely, and Jared knew they wouldn’t.  The family inspired loyalty and Jensen was the natural heir despite Kurt Fuller’s take over.

 “Thank you, “Jensen replied sincerely. “ I’ll see you tonight, fifty-fourth floor.”

The security guards left. 

Jensen grabbed Jared’s arm.  “Dad’s ghost?”  His voice shook.  “This really can’t be good.  His death... there is just something not right about it.  What if...  what if it wasn’t natural, Jay?  Oh God, what if he were murdered?”

Jared hushed him as Jensen’s body started to shake  “We’ll cross that bridge when we need to, Jen.  Just wait for tonight.”

“Something is very wrong!” 

And Jared couldn’t help but agree.  Something was very wrong indeed.  But more than anything he was anxious about his friend.  He had never seen Jensen so wound up and uptight, so on edge.   

  


ACT ONE   Scene 3

Misha called through the open door.

“Alona?  The car’s waiting below.”  He had a jacket slung over his arm, and a small carry-on bag over his shoulder.  His luggage was already packed in the limousine.

Blonde hair flying, his sister rushed out of her room and hugged him hard.

“Don’t forget to call me!”  Misha muttered into her hair.

“What, me? Never!” 

Misha looked fondly down on her,  then sobered.  “I had lunch with Jensen and Jay,”  he said carefully watching his sister’s response with intent.  Alona was cool, and there was barely a flicker of interest, but Misha knew her very well, and knew what to look for.  It was fleeting but definitely there.  “I heard some interesting things.”

“Really?” the girl replied, a study of artlessness.

He grabbed her shoulders tightly.  “You’ve been spending some time with Jensen.” Not meaning to sound so accusatory, he inwardly winced at his own harsh tone.

“So what?”  Alona sounded a little petulant. “He’s our friend.”

“Things aren’t the way they used to be, Ali. We’ve haven’t seen him properly for years. He’s changed.  And all this shit that’s going on?  He’s not interested in you . . . he’s just been lonely.”

Alona’s reply was challenging.  “You think so?”

“I know him, sweetheart.  He doesn’t mean anything by it.  God, don’t you remember the year before he and Jay left for Harvard?  All those girls?   He’s probably just grateful for a friendly face and sympathetic ear at the moment, don’t read any more into than it is.”  Misha explained carefully, but there were some things he really didn’t want to discuss with his sister.  He was very fond of his Alona, and as much as he loved Jensen, he knew that his sister’s crush was going to end in heartache.  “Think about who he is . . . he may not be CEO but he is heir to the majority share in the company.  He isn’t going to be allowed to hook up with just anyone, not in a serious way.”

His sister opened her mouth to either disagree or to call him out on his suggestion that she was ‘just anyone’, but Misha plowed on, determined to get his piece said.

“If nothing else, people are going to gossip.  They are already gossiping and not in a nice way.” 

“Pot, meet kettle,” Alona shot back.  “Don’t go preaching at me, brother, when we all know what they say about you!”

Misha laughed a little at that.

“Jay’s here now anyway.  I doubt that you’ll see much of Jen,” he countered, and was sorry when he saw a shadow of disappointment cross his sister’s face.  Dear God, he hoped it was nothing more than a minor crush.  Jensen was one of his best friends but he didn’t want his sister dating him, not with his history, and, well, not when he had noticed how Jensen’s gaze had lingered on Jared during lunch.  Something had changed since they had been away.




But _something_ had changed recently and Misha didn’t want Alona to get mixed up in all of that.  

Heavy footsteps and the sound of a throat clearing announced the arrival of their father.

Jim Beaver had loosened his tie and removed his jacket but he was still dressed in the suit and shirt he was wearing earlier.

“What are you still doin’ here, boy?  The car’s waiting on you.”  Jim Beaver may have reached the dizzying heights of Chief Legal Counsel, but the dust of small town Texas still clung to his boots.

Misha reached out to shake his father’s hand, and smiled at him affectionately.

“Get gone, already!”  Jim said roughly.  “But take my advice.  You have an opportunity here, don’t mess it up.”  Misha looked over his father’s shoulder at his sister and rolled his eyes. 

“Careful who you mix with, boy,” his father continued, “and don’t forget the Company comes first.  You’re going to have to cut back on the drinking and women and them fancy foreign suits.  But you’re a good lad. Just be true to yourself.”  He drew his son into a tight but brief hug.  Misha grinned.  Oh yes, he’d enjoyed Jensen’s year of rebellion, even if they did get banished from Dallas at the end of it – Jensen and Jared to Boston and him to Europe.  But while Jensen seemed to have quietened down a lot since being in Boston,  Misha still enjoyed the good things in life and wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, whatever his father said.  Anyway, he’d done all right by it, hadn’t he? He was now CEO of Elsinore Corporation’s Paris Office.

“Take care, Dad.   I’ll call you when I get in.  And Ali, remember what I said!”

“Seared into my mind!” He got a rude reply back, but then his sister was forgiving and wrapped herself around him.

“Bye, sweetheart,” he squeezed her tight, then let go and stepped into the elevator.

Alona paused sadly, then turned to go back into her room.  Jim stopped her.

“What did Misha say to you, Ali?”

“Not much.  Just something about Jensen.”  She started to move past him.

“Yeah, I’ve heard some tattle about you and him spending a lot of time together since he got back from Harvard.”  A thoughtful frown creased his features.  “So, girl, what’s going on?”  

“Nothing much,” Alona considered lying  but because she had never been able to completely lie to her Dad, especially since her mother had left, she just embroidered the truth a little. “We’ve hung out with each other a bit, sent some emails and stuff. “

“Does he say he likes you?”  Jim was frowning.

“I dunno,” his daughter replied truthfully.  “He doesn’t seem to mind me.  I guess so.”  And that was her ace up her sleeve.  Jensen hadn’t spent time with anyone else since he’d got back. 

But her father scoffed in return. “Really?”

Alona was confused now.  Both Misha and her father had always liked Jensen, considered him a man of integrity.  Why were they so concerned with his intentions now?

“I . . . I don’t . . . I’m not sure,” she hesitated.

Jim Beaver snorted.  “Don’t be so naïve, girl.  You’ll show yourself up, and me too!”

“But he said . . .” Alona was provoked to argue but was interrupted by the increasing seriousness and gentleness of his tone.

“He’s deceiving you, just playing games, Ali.  You know him – it’s all games with him.  And if it isn’t just his dissolute behavior then he’s doing it for another reason.  He’s seen with you, people forget the gossip, stop speculating.”

Alona was pretty sure that her father was talking about the persistent rumors surrounding Jensen and his sexuality. There had been one year of womanizing at eighteen, but since then there had been very few women.  And then there was Jared, and his constant presence wherever Jensen happened to be.  Gay by association perhaps?  Alona was offended.  Did her father think Jensen was deliberately making people think he was interested in her just to stop the gossipers?  Why would anyone think that Jensen would be so mean to her?  He was the nicest person she knew.

“Stay away from him, Alona.  Even if he does like you, it’s only friendship – you’re the little sister of one of his best friends.  Of course, he’s going to be pleasant.  But he’s family, and things aren’t so good around the family at the moment.  You’d be better off away from it all.  You’ll only get hurt.”

She nodded her agreement but didn’t mean it.  She had crushed on Jensen since she was fourteen, but things had gone so much further now.  He had smiled at her and talked to no one else as far as she could see.  He had touched her until her body sang and whispered beautiful words to her. He wouldn’t have done that if he were gay, would he?

A couple of hours later though, and she was having serious doubts.   Growing up in the shadow of the three older boys, she had been aware of Jensen’s desperate need to escape Elsinore Plaza. She had exulted in the outrageous pranks he and his friends had pulled, despaired at the alcohol and drug use (minor, of course -- he wasn’t stupid), and had cried bitterly over the parade of girls even though she knew it was all a game.  But she had also seen how her own pain was mirrored in the face of Jared Padalecki.  And then there was that one time, when Jensen had been raging and raging against Jeffrey Dean . . . that one time when she saw Jensen’s desperate need, and yearning and adoration for Jared as his rage was soothed and quietened by Jared’s gentle words.




Perhaps her father was right.

  


ACT ONE  scene 4

“It’s fucking freezing up here!”  Jensen shivered.

Jared tried hard not to think how ‘unnaturally’ cold it was on the executive office floor, in a sealed building, and what that ‘unnatural’ cold might mean.

The two men, along with Wisdom, had taken the elevator to the fifty-fourth floor just after midnight, leaving behind the noise of the party below.  Now that Jensen knew he was back in Dallas, Jared had also received a party invite, so both he and Jensen were pacing the darkened corridors in their tuxedos.   Jensen constantly, and nervously, pulling at his collar.  He was never comfortable in formal wear at the best of times (and how like his father he was in that), but tonight he was extra agitated.  It had taken Jared quite a while to cajole him into the suit in the first place, explaining that not dressing formally would give rise to unwanted gossip.

The muffled boom of music and cheering could still be heard, at odds with the sombre, yet charged air in the corridor.

“This is the time when the ghost appeared yesterday?”  Jensen asked again.

Jared concurred.  He had no real desire to see a ghost again – it had terrified him last night – but he was used to being the calm before Jensen’s storm and knew that Jensen would pick up on his nerves and just add them to his own churning mass of excitability.

“You can still hear the party from up here!”  Jensen nervously darted forward and backwards and circled Jared and Wisdom.

“Not surprising!”  Jared grunted back and caught the security chief’s eye.  Wisdom shrugged ruefully.

“You know what they say about Elsinore – ‘work hard, play harder!’  It’s no wonder the company is so often underestimated.” Jensen became talkative when nervous, and it seemed as if he was trying to cover the palpable discomfort and fear with words.

“It’s like . . .  you know . . . how someone can be brilliant, good and wonderful but if he has just one fault, all anyone sees is that fault.  My Dad liked a drink, therefore Elsinore is run by drunkards.”  He continued wittering on saying nothing of consequence.  Jared observed all his nervous tics with affection.  He had watched him be like this so many times – their senior high school prom, first day at College, his graduation, first dates  -- for all his natural and usual casualness, Jensen could get himself really wound up in knots.

But then he saw what they were waiting for.  Jensen’s ramble came to a halt as he realized his companion’s attention had strayed elsewhere.

“Jensen, look!”  Jared could barely voice his words.

Jensen froze, all nervous movements and words swallowed in sudden realization.




“Dear God,” Jensen whispered, face as pale as the ghost’s in the fluctuating light. “What the hell?”

The apparition stopped a few feet away, dark gaze intent.  Jared’s scalp prickled and goose bumps rose on his arms.

“Let me speak to you, whether demon from hell or angel from heaven,”  Jensen called out.  “Dad?”  Then grabbed Jared’s sleeve.  “What the fuck is going on?  Jay?  Why the hell is he here?”

Gaze fixed upon Jensen, the ghost beckoned. 

Jared laid a warning hand on Jensen’s shoulder.“It . . . he wants you to go with him,” he whispered into Jensen’s ear.  “Perhaps to talk with you.”

Wisdom had retreated a few steps from the vision but now moved into a defensive position before Jensen, his duty more important than his terror at this point.  “Don’t go with it, Mr. Jensen,” he cautioned.

“Fuck, no!”  agreed Jared vehemently, clutching harder still at his friend’s arm.

The ghost remained watching, arm outstretched and inviting.  He made no attempt to speak.

“He won’t speak until I go with him, Jay.” Jensen tried to shake off Jared’s hold.

“Please, Jen, don’t!”  Jared begged.

“What harm can he do me?”  Jensen answered. “I don’t give a damn about my life, and what else can he hurt? Let me go.”

The ghost, sensing Jensen’s willingness to follow, began to back off down the corridor.

An awful fear gnawed at Jared’s insides.  He felt sick with a sense of wrongness, and terror.  And at the centre of this maelstrom was his fear for Jensen.  Ever since they had been given the news of Jensen’s father’s death, he had felt a dreadful sense of foreboding and Jensen’s carelessness over his life only added to it.

“What if it wants to harm you, Jen?” he pleaded.

“Damn it, Jay, he wants me to go with him.”

Wisdom planted himself directly in front of Jensen.  “You’re not going, Mr. Jensen!”

“Take your hands off me,” Jensen cried wildly, pulling hard at Jared’s restraining hands and ignoring Wisdom completely.

“NO, Jen!”  Jared struggled to hold Jensen back.

“I have to,” Jensen declared, and then Jared watched in horror as Jensen drew a small pistol from his waistband and pointed it directly at Wisdom.  “Back off, or I _will_ kill you!”   

Wisdom immediately stood aside, duty and loyalty to the family losing out to self-preservation.  Jared loosened his hold but kept one hand on Jensen’s arm.  Jensen glared at him, gun wavering, until finally Jared dropped that hand too. 

“Go on!  I’m coming!”  Jensen called to the rapidly disappearing figure of his father.  Then he turned and swiftly disappeared up the corridor into the depths of the building without looking back.

“We should follow him,” Wisdom said.

Jared nodded, shocked that Jensen would pull a gun on anyone, let alone on him.  It settled as a vicious pain in his gut, an overwhelming feeling of betrayal.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Wisdom added.

So had Jared. 

A very bad feeling.

  


ACT ONE scene 5

Somewhere in the labyrinth of corridors and stairways of Elsinore Plaza, Jared and Wisdom had gotten separated, and Jared had almost given up finding Jensen at all, when, finally, his synapses had started firing again, enough to realize where the ghost of Jeffrey Dean  would take his son for a beyond the grave heart–to-heart.  He climbed the steps to the roof.

Not long after Jared’s Parents had been killed, Jeffrey Dean had brought him up here.  He had been terrified.  Although JD was a close friend of his father and had been a constant presence in his life, the man had been big - larger than life – and famed for his rages.  But he had been gentle as he explained that he would make sure Jared was all right, told him that he would come to live with his own son, go to his son’s school, be brought up as his son.

Jared nodded sombrely as he became aware of Jensen standing in the shadows, chewing nervously on his thumbnail.  It didn’t take much for an intelligent twelve-year-old to realize who had _really_ instigated this.  And so, because Jensen was the one person he had left in all the world, he had agreed to Jensen’s father’s proposition, despite his fear of the man.

But Jeffrey Dean’s incursions into Jensen’s -- and therefore Jared’s -- life, were very few. When assuaged with guilt or drunk, he would take them up to the roof.  Largely ignoring Jared, he would put his arms around Jensen’s shoulders and ramble expansively about his dreams for the company.  Leaping down the staircases once they had been dismissed, Jensen would roll his eyes heavenwards.  Jensen had no interest in the company – had never had any interest in the company, and had had enough experience of his father not to take any of his alcohol-induced overtures seriously.  But still, after every visit to the roof of the tower,  Jensen would become brooding and quiet, as if he had known that he was going to let his father down, that he was never going to be able to meet his father’s expectations of him, even when only a young boy.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Jared cautiously stepped out onto the cold concrete of the roof.  The night was chilly and a little stormy – vicious winds and black clouds massing above.  Then he heard Jensen’s voice, clear and determined.

“Stop.  I’m not going any further.”

Jared crept round the porch of the stairwell until he could see the father and son looking out over the eastern reaches of the city, just as they had done so many times during Jensen’s adolescence. 

 “I’m not going any further – so what do you need to say?”  Jared could hear a low thread of resentment and belligerence in his friend’s voice.  He almost smiled, because this was more a more familiar tone when Jensen and his father spoke to each other.

And then he watched in stupefied amazement as a ghostly scene played out in front of him.   Jeffrey Dean, in a well tailored suit but with tie loosened and shirt a little untucked, was shuffling papers on an equally ghostly desk when an unknown man appeared behind him.  Jeffrey Dean didn’t appear to notice him as he continued to pack up a briefcase.  Then the other man raised a long sharp object – a syringe, Jared noted with horror.  The syringe plunged into the back of the CEO’s neck, who turned to struggle with his assailant but soon collapsed to the ground, clutching his left arm.  The assailant disappeared from the scene to be replaced by Kurt Fuller’s smiling, smug face.  And then the scene replayed.

Jared could only stare at the awful sight as he watched his foster father fall to the ground again.  _Murder!_   The cold tendrils of fear seized his heart and he tried to call out to Jensen.  But terror had hold of his voice and allowed no sound to be freed.

Jeffrey Dean had been found on the floor of his office.  The cause of death was thought to be a heart attack.  He was a hard-drinking, hard-working man who thrived on the excitement and stress of running of big business.  It was unexpected but no one questioned the coroner’s verdict.  A heart attack.

But Jared was now watching, with grim dread, a different version of events.  A version that suggested that Jeffrey Dean was murdered, and implied that Kurt Fuller was the instigator. 

As the grisly scene replayed itself over and over again, the pale shadow standing by his living son, gestured and drew Jensen’s attention to the flickering images and finally Jensen was watching the same scene as Jared.

Jared’s own heart shattered as he watched Jensen first pale and then collapse to his knees at the awfulness of what he was seeing.  He watched as his friend grabbed his chest as if his own heart was stopping and then heard Jensen’s anguished keening as the murder was re-enacted.  Jared scrambled around the edge of the roof to get to Jensen, fearful of his friend’s life and sanity.

“Jensen!” he called desperately as Jensen curled in on himself still wracked with what seemed like a physical pain.  Jared reached out, falling to the ground himself, and dragging his friend into the warmth of his body, wrapping all four limbs around him.  The ghastly vision continued to play itself out again and again, silently, as Jensen shook violently in Jared’s arms, convulsing as huge sobs wracked his body.

Jared looked up at the ghost of Jeffrey Dean with hatred.

“Stop it now!”  he shouted in fury.  “Enough!”   The ghost seemed to consider a moment, gazing coldly at the two young men at his feet, and then the vision of his murder flickered and died.  He stood as if waiting.

The grisly scene now gone, Jared began to shush Jensen, hands stroking his back, running though his hair, lips whispering calm into his ears as Jensen repeated “God . . . Oh, God . . . God,” endlessly.  Jared continued to hold him hard and steady, until slowly, Jensen’s breathing began to even, his deep shudders fading. 

Finally Jensen became silent and took a few deep breaths.  As he calmed, his awareness grew and he started to struggle to get free of Jared’s hold. 

“You are not alone!”  Jared said simply before Jensen could get free and then he let him go hoping the message had gotten through Jensen’s distress.  He grimaced as he noticed the disgust crossing the face of the ghost as he stared down at them, as if he knew what was held in the depths of Jared’s heart and didn’t like it.

Jensen had moved away from Jared but there were still only a few feet between them.  The last few weeks had taken their toll on him, his always slender frame had thinned out, and there had been dark smudges under his eyes.  Now Jensen’s face had taken on a skeletal look – he was almost green with paleness, his light freckles stark against his palid skin, and his eyes, abnormally dark and huge, above teeth-torn swollen lips.  Jared reached out to comfort but knew that Jensen would only see his horror mirrored in Jared’s own face. 

 “My Uncle!  But....  dear God,  I knew it ...”  the younger man finally gasped.

Not knowing what to say, Jared remained silent, but looked on helplessly as Jensen started to collect himself.

 “I have to be strong, I have things to do.  I won’t forget.  I’ll forget everything else in order to remember this.  That smarmy, smiling fucker.  He smiles and smiles and is still a fucking murderer...”  Jared started at the aggression and hatred in Jensen’s voice, and it stoked the fires of his own aversion – not towards Fuller but Jeffrey Dean himself who had always wanted so much from his boy, yet had never accepted him as he really was.  So much so that he was prepared to reach out for Jensen from beyond the grave.  He would be proud, Jared thought joylessly, because the Jensen who was slowly getting to his feet, looked and sounded so much like Jeffrey Dean in that moment that it was uncanny. 

“Mr. Jensen, Mr. Padalecki?”  Both men shot a look around as Wisdom appeared on the opposite side of the roof.  Jensen quickly put some space between them and moved to the parapet, gazing unseeing at the city below.

“We’re here!” Jared called wearily, getting to his own feet, pausing only as he felt the dampness of Jensen’s tears on his jacket, and then realized, with a start, that the ghost had vanished.

Wisdom hurried over as he saw their dark shadows.  “What’s going on?  Are you all right?”  he called.

“Absolutely fucking marvellous!”  Jensen hissed.

Wisdom, in surprise, looked at Jared, who simply shrugged his shoulders. 

“Tell me!” Wisdom insisted.   Jared opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted.

“No!   It was nothing!”  Jensen’s eyes were furious as he turned his back on the city to stare at his two companions. 

Jared simply frowned in puzzlement.

“Thank you for your help, gentlemen,” Jensen continued as dispassionately as if he were thanking them for delivering a meal to his table.  “I’ll thank you not to mention this to anyone.”

 Jared was on his feet and closing the distance between them  before  the sentence was finished.  “No!” he exclaimed forcibly, knowing full well where this was going.

“Go about your business and leave me to mine.” 

Wisdom didn’t look happy but, recognizing an order when he heard one, nodded and quietly left the roof top.

“You too, Jay.” Jensen reiterated when Jared remained where he was.  “Go back to Boston.”

“Oh no you don’t!,” Jared cried and he lurched forward to grab Jensen, “I know exactly what you’re trying to do”.  Jensen backed off.




“I won’t let you do this, Jen.  Don’t shut me out.”  Jared knew with an absolute conviction what Jensen intended.  He already feared for Jensen’s life enough as it was, ever since he’d seen that self-satisfied smile of Kurt Fuller gracing the pages of the National Press - that smile that suggested Fuller was intent on gaining everything he could wish for and that nothing was going to get in his way.

With his father murdered, and by his uncle no less, there was no way that Jensen wasn’t going to want to seek justice and revenge, if nothing else to assuage his perceived guilt and failure as a son.  And doing that would put him in the way of Fuller’s inexorable rise to the top, whereas before he was no contest, and could be left deep in his books and studies.  No way in hell was Jared going to leave him to face this one alone.  He might want nothing more than to run, tail between his legs, back to their academic ivory tower -- but he wouldn’t be going unless Jensen went, too.

The two stared in challenge, one willing the other to just leave and get the hell out and the other equally determined to stay.

“Jay...” Jensen began.

“No.  No way!”  Jared might have been a gentle man but his resolve was iron-clad and Jensen knew it.  Jared had stood beside Jensen as he faced the wrath of his father too many times for Jensen not to know that he would stand beside him forever, to face any thing that fate decided to toss their way.

Jensen gave in. 

“You mustn’t say anything to anyone,” he whispered.

“I won’t, you know me, Jen.”

“Swear!”

“I promise.”

A low rumble of thunder accompanied a flash of lightning startling both men.

“Jesus, this is fucking weird!”  Jared said as the building seemed to shake to the core.

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Jay, than you could possibly imagine!”  Jensen cried as he looked wildly around the roof terrace.

“Promise you won’t say anything – no matter what I do or say.  No hints or secret looks that suggest you might even have a clue.  Promise it!”  Jensen’s words were accompanied by another rumble of thunder.

“I promise, Jen, with my whole heart.”  Jared said, looking deeply into Jensen’s frightened eyes.

Jensen cupped Jared’s cheek in his hand, as Jared lowered his head to rest his forehead on Jensen’s. “Damn it, Jay.  What a fucking mess!”

  


ACT TWO  Scene one

Jim Beaver was a cautious man.  He was proud of his achievements, and had worked hard for them, but he had succeeded mostly because he was careful, very careful.

For instance, while he was particularly pleased that his son was rising through the company ranks, he was also a little anxious that Misha should not fail.  Not that his son had given him many reasons to doubt him – he was hard-headed and brilliant in business – but there was that streak of impulsiveness, and a fire in the belly of the boy, which could, if Misha did not also adopt his father’s cautiousness, cause all sorts of trouble.  Jim hadn’t regretted sending his son abroad as soon as he was old enough, away from the influence of the other two boys – although, he ruefully had to admit that Misha was most likely an instigator rather than a follower.

Even now, with his son the embodiment of all that the company could wish for in its high flying executives, Jim feared and wondered.  He began to type furiously on his lap top.

To: Reynald, Vice Chair Elsinore Corporation, Paris (b.[reynald@elsinore.com](mailto:reynald@elsinore.com))

From:  [j.beaver@elsinore.com](mailto:j.beaver@elsinore.com)

Please find attached copies of those documents I sent to my son this morning for your interest.

With reference to our recent conversation, please do not feel concerned about “telling tales” on Misha.  I only want to assure myself that he is safe and happy.  Perhaps you could reassure me on the veracity of certain rumors about his drinking, and womanizing.  I would prefer to make an early intervention if necessary.

Yours,   Jim

 

He felt a little guilty that he should still be checking up on his son -- Misha was nearing his thirties -- but it was a strange and unsettling time.  Everyone was on edge, nervous, and he didn’t want anything to get in the way of his son’s progress through the company.  Bob Reynald was a good friend, and had looked out for Misha since his arrival in Europe.

He was interrupted as the door was flung open, and his daughter threw herself on the couch.

Cursing the disturbance, but still noting the distress in his daughter’s face, he sighed, got up from his desk to come and sit on the opposite armchair.

“What’s the problem, girl?”  he asked.

Alona looked frightened, her hands shaking, almost too distracted to speak.

“Oh, Dad!” she cried.

“What in the name of heaven has happened?”  Jim was now quite alarmed.  Alona was a sensible child normally and not given to silly over dramatic screaming and squealing.  There was silence from his daughter, but obviously her distress over whatever had caused her to burst so violently into the room won over her own natural quiet nature.

“It’s Jensen!” 

Jim’s heart sank, but he let his daughter continue.

“He just came into my office and sat on the floor.  He didn’t say a word, just mumbled.  I couldn’t understand what he was saying. He was behaving really weirdly – and was still dressed in that horrid grey bathrobe.  He looked pale, and was shaking, and looked so unhappy and scared.  Dad, he’s been so strange for a while now – he rambles and doesn’t make sense, and he’s wearing that awful ratty robe all the time.”

“Was he drunk?”  Jim frowned and puzzled.  “Had he taken something else?”

Alona shrugged.  She thought she had smelled alcohol but wasn’t sure.  Jensen had set a great precedent in the year before he left for college, so she wasn’t comfortable denying any of her father’s suggestions.

Jim mused.   Jensen had certainly seemed very depressed recently, understandably, so soon after the death of his father and everything else that had followed. But he certainly hadn’t shown any of the traits which had got him exiled to Boston.  In fact he had seemed calmer, less wild, and the reports from Harvard had suggested that Jensen, if not a paragon of virtue (which young lad ever was), was settling down and maturing.  JD had been very pleased, hoping this was a sign that his son was ready to return to the Plaza and his destiny.  But the boy obviously was still susceptible to violent mood swings. It wasn’t surprising when he shut himself away after JD’s funeral, but until very recently he had not shown any signs of his former wildness. A few reports had been made, that Jensen had been seen in one of the many bars in the Plaza’s shopping mall, drinking heavily and demonstrating rowdy conduct.  Now this . . . Alona seemed to be describing someone on drugs . . .

Jim wondered what had sparked the downturn in Ackles’s behavior.  Young Padalecki had certainly returned, but Jared had always been a steadying influence on Jensen.  Misha was now in Paris and, for once, utterly blameless.

He looked sharply at his daughter.

“Why did he come to your office?  Have you said something to him recently that would upset him?”  he asked.

“Only what you asked of me, Dad.  I stopped meeting up with him.”  Alona didn’t admit that her father had been right.  Since Jared’s arrival, Jensen hadn’t shown any interest at all in her so there had been no real need to shun him as her father had asked.

Jim, however was thinking an opposite line, and wasn’t so proud that he couldn’t admit when he had been wrong.  Perhaps Jensen was more interested in his daughter than he had originally thought.

“Did he say anything to you?”

Shaking her head, Alona said, “He just grabbed my wrist when I asked him if something was wrong, looked at me hard, then sighed.  He finally let me go and ran out of the room.”

“This sounds like frustrated love to me.  Love makes us do very strange and violent things sometimes.  It can certainly send the sanest of men to drink.  Hmmmm . . .  I shall have to let Kurt know.”

Alona frowned at him.

“We shouldn’t hide this from him,” Jim played his usual carefulness.   “I know the family have been worried about him.”  He looked across to his daughter with affection.  “I’m sorry.  I thought... I thought that Jensen hadn’t meant anything with his attention to you... that perhaps... well, you know how close he and Jared are... you’ve heard the stories... but perhaps I was wrong.  Come on!”  He got up and held out a hand. “We must go and see Kurt and Samantha.”

Alona reluctantly reached out for his hand and went with him.  But she kept quiet on her other thoughts – how Jensen had taken their ‘separation’ so well, how she hadn’t seen him at all in the last few weeks since Misha had left for Paris, except for those times when she saw him at a distance shadowed constantly by his old childhood friend, and, in particular, that one time, in the coffee shop down the road, when she had seen him turn his face to Jared’s with a rare true smile.  She had recognized the devotion laid bare there.

Let her father think what he liked, Jensen’s peculiar behavior was nothing to do with her, and she grieved deeply that it was so.

  


ACT TWO  Scene two

Jared was heading towards Jensen’s apartment when he saw Jim Beaver and his daughter enter the Vermilion Meeting Room with Kurt Fuller and Jensen’s mother, Samantha.  Without consciously thinking about it, he slipped into the room from the opposite door -- which stood behind heavy drapes -- to listen in.  An insistent voice in his head told him that this was a fucking stupid idea and that there would be a lot of trouble if he were discovered. But now he was here, it would be difficult to extricate himself without notice.  He could see through a gap in the curtains, and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw two further arrivals.  What the fuck...?

“Ah, you must be Jake Cohen and Matt Abel!”  Kurt boomed as he shook the hands of two young men.  Jared nearly snorted with laughter.  He heard Samantha tactfully correct Fuller and listened as the man continued without so much as a pause.  “Sorry, Jake Abel and Matt Cohen.  Thank you for coming so quickly.  We have need of you!  You may have heard some gossip about the state of my stepson!  He has taken the death of his father very hard, but I don’t understand why he is so... um... well....  let’s just say that there is a  wild streak in my stepson and obviously the Company doesn’t need this getting out into the press.  You, I understand, are his good friends, and I hope that you can distract him, or stage an intervention, or whatever is needed, so we can straighten him out again.”

Jared wondered why Jensen’s mother hadn’t felt she could come to him for help as she had done often in the past when her worries for her son had overwhelmed her. 

“My dear boys, Jensen has so often spoken of you that I feel I know you already.  Please, help my son!”  Samantha, in all her cool beauty and grace, was irresistible.  Jared could hardly blame Matt and Jake for their stuttering acquiescence but was disappointed in them all the same.

“What... whatever you wish,  Mrs Ack...  Er  Mrs... Fuller!”  Jake responded.

“Please, we will do as you ask!”  agreed Matt readily.

“Thank you, boys,” Fuller re-shook both their hands.

“This is your first visit here, isn’t it?”  Samantha kissed them both on the cheek.  Picking up a telephone,  she continued, “ I’ll get someone to show you to Jensen’s apartment.”

Jensen’s friends were forgotten as soon as they were dismissed into the care of a lackey.

Jim Beaver, a little nervously, cleared his throat.

“We have heard back from Ed Norway, Mr. Fuller.”  Not for the first time, Jared wondered what Jim Beaver thought of the new regime at Elsinore Corporation.  Unlike many of the other senior executives, he had kept his place on the board, even though he had been another of Jeffrey Dean’s good friends.  He seemed to be as trusted as he ever was before.  Did he know something? 

“Ah, good news, I hope,” Fuller gestured to a seat at the giant oval table that filled the room.  Both he and Samantha sat, as Jim joined them.

“Well, he says he was unaware of his nephew’s machinations against us, but now he knows he will do everything in his power to stop him.  He knows that Fortinbras Holdings can’t withstand any more instability, so is talking now to their shareholders (of which he is one, I believe).  I’m pretty certain Norway will distract his nephew with other ventures – the kid has fire, and an acute business sense.  It would be a shame to stifle it.  But I think we can trust Norway to ensure that he doesn’t look this way.”

“That’s great.  Thank you for your work in this, Jim.”  Fuller now looked pleased.

“But there’s one other thing, Mr. Fuller,” Jim said quickly, “I think I might have discovered the cause of Jensen’s... ah... distraction.”

“Really?  Fire away.  I am all ears!”  Fuller responded.

“I suspect it is his father’s death and our marriage so soon after,”  Samantha interrupted sadly.

“Well, we shall see,” her husband turned towards her with a faint smile and they both looked back at the older man.

“Your son appears to have started drinking heavily or, perhaps, taking something of an illegal nature.”

Jared was pleased to see sorrow cross the face of Jensen’s mother, but was fascinated with the conversation.  He had been witness to some of the bizarre conversations and pranks that Jensen had been pulling of late and was interested to see what these three, and particularly Fuller, thought about it.

“We know this, Jim.  Please get on with it!”  Samantha sounded sharper than she probably intended.

“I have a daughter, who because she is a good girl, gave me this...”  he reached into a pocket, pulled out  a folded piece of copier paper, then began to read.

“To sweet Alona, I . . .”

“Did Jensen send her this?”  Samantha asked snatching the paper out of his hand before he could go too much further and perused the sheet closely.

“Indeed.  In fact, there have been several emails which my daughter has now allowed me to read.”  Alona, standing as close to the door as possible, looked uncomfortable and awkward.  But not nearly as uncomfortable and awkward as Jared felt, listening in.  Could Jensen have really sent love letters to Misha’s kid sister? 

“How did Alona respond?”  Kurt Fuller turned his eye on the slight girl at the door.

“What sort of man do you think I am?” Beaver answered too quickly.  “What might you have thought if I had seen this and turned a blind eye?  No, as soon as I found out that she had been meeting with him in secret, I told her that it had to end.  A young man of Jensen’s stature and position could not seriously be interested in someone like her.  And she did as I asked and now it seems that I was wrong for he has taken the rejection very badly and has . . . it appears . . . taken to drink or something worse.”

“Do you think this is true?”  Fuller asked his wife.

“Possibly...” she answered, but there was a puzzled frown on her face.

“When have I been wrong?”  Jim Beaver was moved to question.

Fuller shrugged.  “We need to find a way of testing this theory.”

All three thought for a moment.

“Let’s set up a meeting between Jensen and Alona.  He has been pacing the corridors at odd times of the day.  Alona can “accidentally” run into him, and we can watch their exchange on the cameras,”  Jim eventually said.  Fuller nodded, ignoring the misery that painted itself on the young girl’s face. 

Samantha stood and walked over to her, wrapping an arm about her shoulder, whispering something that Jared couldn’t overhear.  The two men shook hands and made arrangements, then all four left the meeting room. 

Jared  stepped out from behind the curtains and stood for a moment to regain his equilibrium.  Jensen and Alona?  Jared wasn’t stupid nor deaf – he had heard the rumors which had surrounded Jensen all his life.  He even knew what they said about him.  He also knew Jensen better, probably, than anyone else in the world, and knew he wasn’t a saint, far from it.  But Alona?  Misha’s little sister?  She was pretty, to be sure, and had a wicked sense of humor.  But surely Jensen wouldn’t shit in his own backyard?  Misha would have no hesitation in killing him.  Unless Jensen was truly serious.  And Jared didn’t like the flare of jealousy that rose from that thought nor the vice like pain that seemed to grip his heart.  Alona would be good for Jensen, but Jared hated that thought with a passion, and knew himself well enough to know why that was. 

Distractedly he tumbled out of the meeting room and continued on his way towards Jensen’s apartment, only to find Jensen already heading towards him, a slim book in hand.  Jensen smiled briefly but then, as if a curtain had fallen, all recognition dropped from his face.  Jared was confused until he heard the gruff tones of Jim Beaver behind him.

“Boys!  How are you doing?”   Jared turned and greeted Beaver with a grim smile.

“M’good.” Jensen said ruffling his short hair, and burping loudly.

“Do you know me, Mr. Jensen?”  Jim was frowning.   Jared took a step back and leant on the wall of the corridor to watch their exchange.

“Well, Jim, yes, Mr. Jensen.”

“Are you honest?” 

“Honest?”

“Yes, although only one in every ten thousand men is honest.”  Jensen slapped the book against his leg and laughed raucously.  Beaver looked alarmed and shot a concerned glance at Jared, who shrugged, carefully schooling his face to show concern too.

“ _You_ have a daughter!”  Jensen giggled, in as glorious a imitation of being stoned as Jared had ever seen.

“Yes, I do.”

Jensen narrowed his eyes and licked his lips several times.  Then sighed and wrapped his arms around the lawyer, who squirmed uncomfortably.

“I love you,” he hiccupped.   Letting go with a sigh, he then sank slowly to the floor and sat crossed legged against the corridor wall.  “Who’s spinning the corridor round and about?”

“He talks about my daughter but doesn’t seem to recognize me.”  Beaver muttered to Jared, and then turned his eyes back on Jensen.  “What are you reading, Jensen?” 

“Words! Words! Words!”  Jared did snort with laughter at that, earning a reproving look from both men.

“What’s it about?”  Jim persisted and Jared had to admire his bravery.

Jensen looked confused, “About where?”   He mimed searching about him, even going as far as lifting Beaver’s pant leg.

“No, what are you are reading?” the lawyer asked again, pulling his leg away.

“Why, lies sir!   For it says here,” and Jensen opened the book, obviously upside down, and pointed to some lines, “that old men have grey beards and that their faces are wrinkled, their eyes all rheumy and yellow, and that they have lost all their marbles and need nappies to keep their piss from running down their trousers.  You should know all about that, old man.”  Jared’s widened his eyes in shock at Jensen’s blatant rudeness and roughly shook his head in disapproval.

Jim Beaver seemed a little hurt too.  “Well, this old man will leave you alone then.”  His voice sounded a little bitter and sad and Jared was more than annoyed at Jensen.  Jim, after all, had always been kind to them, and was Misha’s father.  Surely he didn’t deserve being treated like this.  It was after all a ruse – as far as Jared knew, neither alcohol nor drugs were flowing through Jensen’s veins.

“Good.”  Jensen again was brutal.  Jim Beaver stared for an instant and then fled the scene. 

Jared waited until he was sure he was gone, then crouched down to Jensen’s level.

“That was mean!” he said.

Jensen, now the old man had gone, jumped up, hauling Jared up with him.  They stood facing each other for a fraction of a moment, while Jared considered if he really knew his friend after all.  Jensen frowned,

“What is it, Jay?” he said softly, “It’s only an act.”

“He hasn’t done you any harm!  Or do you think he helped Fuller kill your father?” Jared bit back angrily. 

“I . . . Jay?”  Jensen began uncertain, his eyes beginning to shroud with shadows.

“What are you doing, Jen?  What’s this about?”  Jared saw a flash of panic creep into Jensen’s eyes and started to backtrack. “It’s OK, I’m not going to say anything, but I don’t understand why . . . why this?  I swear you’re acting worse than when you were eighteen  - only then you really were pissed out of your brains!” 

Jensen grinned very briefly, “Ah, good times!”

“Not really,” muttered Jared.  He’d lived through it largely sober and could remember the awfulness of a very drunk Jensen. It had been Misha’s idea (of course).  Rack up the rebellion, the bad boy behavior,  and the fuel for gossip, and the Ackles would consider Harvard rather than UT as a way better option for their son.  It took a while (Jeffrey was a stubborn old goat) but eventually, and in the greatest despair after Jensen made it into the papers again, they had let him apply for college with the aim of majoring in business.  Once at Harvard, Jensen simply switched to History, kept his visits home short and, to Jared’s very great relief, reined wild behavior.  Jensen had got what he wanted – escape from Dallas.

“He mustn’t suspect . . . he mustn’t know that I’m onto him . . . I’m just trying to make him think I’m . . ..”  Jensen’s pleas broke through Jared’s thoughts.

“But, Jen, it might make him more suspicious.  Listen, I overheard Fuller and Beaver talking earlier--”  But Jared didn’t have time to tell him about everything he had overheard not fifteen minutes earlier.

“Jenny!  Jay! There you are!”  Jensen winced at the awful pet name and then spun round to face Jake and Matt coming down the corridor.  Surprise, followed by a grim frown, was finally chased away as Jensen schooled his features into a neutral position.

“Dear God, it’s Cohen and Abel themselves, all the way from Boston, Mass.  How’re you doing?”  Jensen put on a bright smile and then laughed as the three of them greeted each other, then leaned too heavily on them as he hugged them.  Jared stood back a little, nodding only when acknowledged by the other two.

“We’re good, Jenny!” Jake said.

“And all the better for seeing you!”  Matt continued.

“Oh, yeah?”  quizzed Jensen brightly.

“Absolutely,” Jake remarked laughing.

  “So what news?”  Jensen asked, still smiling, but Jared could see a sharp brittle edge to it.

“Nothing special,” Matt answered.

“How come . . .. Uh . . . how come you . . . you’re having to serve time in this prison?”  Jensen continued to press.

“Prison?  Elsinore Plaza?  This is a palace, Jenny boy,”   Matt waved a hand about him.

“It seems like a prison to me.”  Jensen looked seriously at Jared for a moment but flashed his white teeth as he turned to his other friends.

“I don’t think so,” Jake said.  “Perhaps you have been indoors too long.  Or perhaps your ambitions are getting too big for even the Elsinore Corporation.”

“My ambitions?”  Jensen shot another quizzical look at Jared, who had now moved to stand beside his friend, gazing hard at the two visitors.  Jensen was far from stupid and didn’t necessarily need Jared to tell him the score, but he sorely wished he had had time to tell Jensen about the meeting in the Vermillion Room.

Matt touched Jake’s arm slightly in warning.  Jared noticed it, and, almost certainly, so did Jensen.

“I have no ambition, Jake, but I do have bad dreams.  Oh . . . oh . . . I think I’m going to be sick,” Jensen answered urging unpleasantly.

The two newcomers just stared in something akin to horror and took several steps back, as Jensen swayed alarmingly towards them.  Jared held his breath as he watched Jake and Matt process what they had just seen.

“Why are you not drunk and why are you here in Dallas?”  Jensen then asked as if nothing untoward had happened, the grin fading, replaced with an odd, bright hardness.

“We wanted to visit with you,” Matt said smoothly.  “Just as your other friends do!”  He clapped Jared on the shoulder boisterously but only got narrowed eyes in return from both Jensen and Jared.  Matt and Jake were friends of Jensen’s from College but Jared didn’t like them very much.  Name dropping spongers, both of them.  Although Jensen seemed to like them well enough and had mocked Jared on numerous occasions when he complained about them.  But Jensen knew enough to know that Matt’s overly friendly behavior towards Jared was fake.  Neither of them had ever given Jared time or the space – he wasn’t rich enough nor important enough.

“Hmm... I think you were sent for.”  Jensen also turned to Jared but this time seeking confirmation.  Jared nodded imperceptibly. 

“My mother and stepfather sent for you, and I can tell by the guilt in your faces.”

“Why would they do that?”  Jake stupidly continued, squirming.

“Only you can answer that,” Jensen’s voice had gone icy. “We have known each other for a long time, and have been friends through it all.  For the sake of that friendship, tell me if they sent for you.”

“What do you say?”  Jake turned to Matt who just rolled his eyes.  Jensen tensed up beside Jared – he could feel the air vibrating with it.

“We got a call asking us to come down.”  Matt replied.

Jensen finally nodded, quietly and seriously.

“I’ll tell you why.” His eyes flicked from both of his newly arrived friends, sideways to Jared, still waiting quietly at his side. “I have been in something of a funk over the last few weeks.  Nothing interests me – “

He was interrupted by a sharp laugh from his friends.

“What?” he asked. “What’s so funny?”

“Well,” answered Jake Abel.  “If nothing interests you then you won’t want to go to a theatre showing of Helen of Troy.”  With a grin, he flourished a flyer.

Jared straightened up.  Helen of Troy, a classic silent film from the twenties, was one of Jensen’s favorites. 

“Really?” Jensen grabbed the flyer from Jake and turned to the taller man beside him, his eyes already flashing with delight.  The flyer showed a close up of Miles Randolph, the coolest of the silent film stars,  cheek bones sharp and dark eyes brooding. 

“Oh, this is the best.   We’ve gotta go.  When is it?”   Jensen couldn’t hide the excited tone in his voice and Jared smiled in relief at the return of something akin to normality in Jensen’s manner.  He knew that Jensen had seen the film too many times to number but never in the theatre.  Then he noticed Abel and Cohen staring at them both, turning to smirk at each other.   He glared a silent warning at them. The other reason he hated them . . . their bold insinuations about his friendship with Jensen.  Jensen had always just laughed at them but it bugged the hell out of Jared, perhaps because they hit too close to home.

“So, we’re going, right?  Jensen laughed, and the other two, earlier awkwardness forgotten, whooped and slapped Jensen on the back.  They made their arrangements and then Jensen and Jared escorted the two visitors to the guest quarters.  Three of them laughed and joked, and caught up on the latest news from Harvard.  Jared walked behind glowering.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Jensen whirled round to face his taller friend, all laughter and joy falling from his face.

“I was going to warn you . . .” Jared begun.

Jensen pulled a face, then looked away.

“I get it, Jay.”  He answered, and then let Jared tell him everything he had learnt that morning. 

****

Several hours later, the four friends tumbled out of the theatre, Jake and Matt yawning widely.

“Jeez, man, that sucked!”  Matt yawned again, and knocked into Jensen, who gave him a black look.

“It’s a classic!” he declared hotly.  Despite the attempts at distraction from the other two, Jensen had remained enraptured while watching the film, sitting forward in his seat, eyes never leaving the screen.  “You are both cultural deserts.  Jared liked it!”

“Jared would,” mumbled Jake quietly to Matt, who screamed with laughter.  Jared just scowled at them.  Jensen’s eyes flickered from one to the other, quietly assessing, but neither Cohen nor Abel were aware of the tense atmosphere.

Despite raised eyebrows, Jensen refused when they suggested hitting a bar for a drink.  So they said goodnight.  He watched them as they rolled eastwards down the road.

“Come on, Jay!”  Jensen tugged at his friends arm.  “Let’s get a drink!”

“But . . .” Jared stuttered.

“I’m not fucking drinking with those two traitors,” Jensen declared stoutly grinning. Then his smile faded as he gazed after Jake and Matt, almost lost in the late night crowds.

“Sometimes I think you’re my only friend,” he said wistfully.

 Jared couldn’t find an answer to that and to the unbearable sadness which lay behind the words but Jensen had already starting walking westwards.

“Come on, Jay!” he tossed behind him as he marched onwards. 

***

Three doubles later, Jared was beginning to feel mellow and Jensen was waxing lyrical about the film.  All trace of sadness had gone, and Jensen’s whole face was lit up with joy, crinkles appearing at the side of his eyes which danced with delight.  It was moments like these that Jared loved the best.  When Jensen was totally lost in his enthusiasms – not just for old silent movies, but when he started telling stories about the Civil War, his Ph.D topic, or his love for baseball.  It was as if he forgot himself, who he was, his family, all the expectations laid on him because of who he was, and he was simply just Jensen.

Jared would listen until Jensen would claim he was sending him to sleep, which he’d deny, and then Jensen would gently get him to talk about something he liked.  But he wasn’t eloquent like Jensen, he couldn’t use words to paint pictures in his head and sometimes having Jensen’s full attention on him was uncomfortable.

“And that scene, when Pyrrhus cuts down Priam, and Hecuba is watching and crying out in horror . . .that sends shivers down my spine every time, Jay. And on the big screen – damn, you could see every little nuance and subtlety in Mary Graceford’s face.  Such talent, and so moving . . .”  

Jensen stopped abruptly.

“What is it, Jen?”  Jared asked in concern.

“God, how fucking awful am I?” Jensen sounded devastated. 

“What?  No, Jen!”  Jared grabbed his friend’s hand.

“I damn well am.  Hateful.  Think about how much emotion and passion Mary Graceford showed and she was just acting.  How would she cry if she had my reasons for crying?  She’d drown us all, Jay.  And look at me – my father was murdered by my Uncle and what am I doing?  Fucking around, pretending to be drunk or really getting drunk, saying nothing, doing nothing.”

He threw some bills onto the table and marched out of the bar, dragging Jared with him, his agitation returning.

Pulling Jared by the hand, he started back for the tower, talking all the way.

“Am I a coward?”  But he didn’t let Jared answer.  “I must be or I would have already shot the fucking bastard’s face off.”

Jared was getting alarmed and, not for the first time in the last few weeks, began to wonder if Jensen’s mind was more than a little unhinged.

“Why haven’t I done it already?”  He stopped abruptly and faced Jared.  “Why haven’t I killed him, Jay?  It’s not from lack of opportunity.”

“Jen . . . ?” Jared spoke softly, but was unable to voice his fear – that Fuller had already murdered one member of the family, what was there to stop him trying to kill another if he was proving to be difficult.  “Let’s just call the police, Jen. Please.  Let’s just call the police.”  He finally was able to force the words out.

Jensen stood facing him, his face crumpling.

“But Dad would.... Dad wouldn’t want that....”

“He would want to be avenged, but surely he wouldn’t want you to kill Fuller yourself.”  Jared could hear the lie in his words.  No, Jeffrey Dean would want _exactly_ that - for Jensen to fire the bullet into his Uncle himself because that would mean Jensen was the hard man, the man of action that his father always wanted him to be.  He would be so proud, always providing Jensen managed it without going to jail himself.  That would just be an embarrassment. Jared felt another surge in his anger that was festering in his soul at his adoptive father.

Jensen also heard the lie, and shook his head sadly.  Then he stepped into Jared’s personal space and rested his forehead on his shoulder.  Jared wrapped both his arms tight around his friend.  Jensen was shaking, so Jared held him tighter, until he felt Jensen’s arms slide under his jacket to tighten around his own waist.  The night air was chilly, but the warmth between them felt good.  _Sometimes,_ mused Jared _, I do get the good things, and this was much more preferable to a one night stand . . ._

Jensen then looked up at Jared.  He had shed no tears but his eyes had a moist sheen to them.  And Jared caught his breath as he gazed down.

Jensen was the most beautiful thing Jared had ever laid eyes on. 

When he had first come to live at the Elsinore Plaza, after his father had gained a promotion in the company, he had been overawed and lonely.  There were very few other children in the building, and then one day, he had caught sight of Jensen, splashing his fingers in the lobby fountain.  Jared had let go of his mother’s hand and wandered over, curious and yearning for a play mate.  Jensen, in those days before Jared had had a growth spurt, was taller than Jared.  His short, soft hair was lighter, and more red, than it was now, and his freckles, which dusted across his face like the stars across the sky, were more prominent. His eyes, looking far too large for his face, were an extraordinary green.  Jared, even at the tender age of seven, looked on this other child and thought he was gazing on some kind of fairy creature, something so beautiful that it hurt to look too hard and too long. 

Jared’s feelings hadn’t changed in eighteen years.  It still hurt to look too hard and too long at Jensen.  And it was more complicated now because he knew Jensen better than anyone else, better than Jensen knew himself. He knew the Jensen that lit up when talking about black and white movies, who passionately espoused liberal politics despite his family’s Republican background, who was a devoted and loyal friend, who would spend his spare time with Jared at the animal shelter or spend his Christmas at the soup kitchen.  He also knew the Jensen who held his bitterness tight to his chest, who could flip wildly from one mood to another, the Jensen who could hate on his father but still desperately seek his approval, and the Jensen who wouldn’t, couldn’t commit to anyone.  Oh yes, Jared knew Jensen very well, both the good and the bad.




So Jared pretended that being Jensen’s best and closest friend was enough.   On days when Jensen was open and happy, he got to touch and hug. But who was he fooling . . . it wasn’t ever enough . . . and, sometimes, Jared could beat his head against the wall.  Jensen was his whole world, and, sometimes, it was agony to live with.




But as Jared stared back down at Jensen, he was overcome by a flame of recklessness and he suddenly didn’t want to hide any more.  So Jared did what he had wanted to do ever since he was seven years old.  He kissed Jensen.

He felt the other man freeze as their lips met, and pulled back in a panic. 

Jared expected... well, he wasn’t sure what he expected... but Jensen’s quiet regard, and the soft sadness crossing his face wasn’t what he predicted.  He continued to back away from his childhood friend.

“It’s all right, Jay,” Jensen said almost inaudibly.

“I’m sorry!  I don’t know... I don’t...”  Jared stumbled over his words and wondered if he was going to be sent back to Boston now.  It definitely didn’t feel as if it was all right.

“I’m sorry too,” Jensen concluded, and gave Jared a very small smile.

“I...”  Jared was at the point of declaring everything that he had left unsaid for eighteen years when Jensen leaned in and stopped him with a hand.

“I know and I’m sorry,” he looked away for a few brief moments as if he were giving Jared time to pull himself together, to put the pieces of his heart back into their heavy lead lined box that sat somewhere deep his chest.  Then he looked back up, green eyes a little fearful.

“Are we all right?” he asked carefully.

 _No_ , Jared wanted to cry out.  _No, this isn’t all right, we are not all right.  I fucking adore you and I want you and it hurts so much that you don’t want me that way._

“Always, Jen,” he answered.

***

The journey back to the tower was made in silence until the giant gold E of Elsinore Plaza came in sight.

“What if Dad’s ghost lied to me?”  Jensen then said suddenly.  “What if it wasn’t really my Dad but something evil trying to trap me into doing something wrong?”  Jared’s breath caught in the back of his throat – for one blessed moment he had forgotten Jensen’s family issues.

“There’s a performance of “Hamlet” at the Playhouse this Saturday.  The story is similar to this living nightmare – the uncle kills the king, marries the queen, son has to avenge the murder . . .”  Jensen continued.

Jared’s heart sank.  He just wanted Jensen to drop this, to run away back to Harvard or to anywhere else as long as it wasn’t here.

“Do you think that Fuller could sit through a performance of “Hamlet” without giving some indication of his guilt?”  Jensen feverishly asked.

“I don’t know.  Depends on how much of a cold hearted bastard he is, I suppose,” Jared answered cautiously.  Jensen grinned his wide ‘ends the suffering of the whole world’ smile.

“That’s what we’ll do!  We’ll invite Mom and Fuller to the Playhouse on Saturday and then we can find out if the story the ghost showed us was true.”  He looked insanely delighted with himself and his new plan, but they were now at the doors of the Tower.  He entered the lobby with cheerful greetings to the Reception and Security staff.

Jared followed, still reeling from the roller coaster of emotion.  He was living with a constant foundation of fear now.  Something was rotten at the core of the company and he knew, without any need for plays and devices, that Fuller was at the bottom of it.  And he knew that Jensen was never going to give in.  Just as Jeffrey Dean would have wanted.  

Jensen would worry at this like a terrier and he was likely to get killed for it.

  


ACT THREE   Scene 1

Elsinore Plaza was like a small city and contained everything anyone could ever need.  In fact it was possible to live at the Tower without ever having to leave the building.  On the lower public floors there were restaurants and bars, a shopping mall, two hotels, three gyms and a swimming pool.  The residential floors sat squarely in the middle, while the offices of the Elsinore Corporation, crowning the tower of steel and glass, were celebrated for their outstanding views of Dallas and the surrounding Texas countryside.   Very few executives decided to live outside of the Tower when there was housekeeping and a laundry service and when the day’s commute was a simple ten or fifteen story elevator ride.

Jensen’s apartment was on floor thirty-nine, neighboring that which had belonged to his parents but which now was the domicile of his mother and her new husband.  On their return to the Tower, Jared had pressed the button for floor thirty-one for his own significantly smaller apartment but Jensen had shaken his head when the doors opened onto the lushly carpeted lobby and so Jared had accompanied him up  the further eight floors.

Getting off the elevator, they suddenly heard the booming voice of Kurt Fuller and the softer tones of Jensen’s mother. There was obviously a conversation going on in the corridor and when the two men heard the sounds of Jensen’s name, they agreed in silence to eavesdrop.  They crept along the corridor, then stopped.

“So you have no idea what’s going on with him?”  Kurt was saying, as they moved closer to where the corridor turned towards the Presidential Suite.

“He says he feels unwell and not himself, but doesn’t say why.  He didn’t drink much tonight but he was certainly loaded this afternoon,” Jake answered looking at Matt to confirm his statement.

 “And you know Jensen, can’t get a straight answer out of him ever!” Matt laughed uneasily back.

Kurt grunted, dissatisfied.

“Was he OK with you when you first met with him?”  Samantha asked anxiously.

“Absolutely fine, Mrs. Fuller!”  Jake lied.  Jensen turned with a grimace to Jared. 

“And you went to the cinema?”  Jensen’s mother questioned further.

“Yes, we saw that old movie that Jensen’s so keen on...” Matt answered her, “Umm... that one with the wooden horse....”

“Helen of Troy!”  Samantha’s smile could be heard in her voice.  “It’s his favorite.   That’s good to hear.  Oh, thank goodness you are here!  I feel sure that all he needed was distracting... and Jared is so... well... I’m just not sure Jared is quite the person to cheer him up.”

Jared felt a strong hand clutch at his shirt and looked down to find Jensen staring intently back at him, urging him not to respond, but he felt angry and dismayed, although not surprised.  Jared had never been quite as welcome in the tower after he had come out.  Samantha and Jeffrey Dean had both been concerned and had urged Jensen to give up on their friendship.  Jensen’s tantrum following that had been legendary. Jared had longed to snarl back at Jensen’s parents – to tell them that he actually hadn’t laid a hand on their precious boy, and to enlighten them regarding the gender of some of Jensen’s Boston lovers..  However, that anger never helped and so he let Jensen calm him.

“Keep up the good work, gentlemen,” Kurt said, obviously dismissing Jensen’s erstwhile college buddies.  Both Jared and Jensen scrambled back to the elevators, appearing to alight as Jake and Matt rounded the corner.  They greeted each other but Jensen did not encourage any further socializing by yawning loudly.  Matt looked pointedly at Jared but was ignored when Jensen dragged Jared along the corridor in the opposite direction towards his apartment.

“Fucking spies!”  he spat as he unlocked the door.

***

They sat up for another good hour discussing Jensen’s plans for the theatre trip.  When Jared’s yawns became obvious, Jensen reluctantly agreed to sleep.  Jared took the couch, a massive monstrosity bought to see service when three tall young lads spent most evenings in playing computer games or watching movies.  He was perfectly comfortable stretched along its length but didn’t get much sleep, dozing and waking frequently.

Neither did Jensen.  Jared could hear him pacing and moving about his room, and then, as night was beginning to turn to dawn, he became aware of someone watching him.  Jensen’s tall silhouette was leaning against the door frame to his bedroom.  Jared half sat up, resting on his elbow.

“Jen?” he asked groggily.

But Jensen didn’t speak and didn’t move, a faint light from the city outside striking across the room and across his face.  He turned after a few minutes without a word and shut his bedroom door behind him.

***

The next morning saw a small group of people from the highest echelons of the company clustered around a drinking fountain in the lobby of the executive suite of offices.    Kurt, ever eager to get to the bottom of his stepson’s peculiar behavior, wanted to spy on an interaction between Alona and Jensen while he could observe on the company’s security cameras.  He typed the email himself falsely signing Alona’s name, asking for Jensen to meet Alona  at her office so she could return some things of his.  It was a good location – there were few very staff in as it was the weekend, and security was given a higher priority in the company’s offices than anywhere else.

Samantha, holding Alona’s hand reassuringly, hoped that this beautiful young girl _was_ the cause of Jensen’s return to heavy drinking because nothing else seemed supportable.   She resolutely refused to examine how her own behavior might be implicated.

“I’m sure you can bring him to his senses, my dear,” she said kindly.

Alona, sick to her stomach and wondering how the hell she had gotten involved in this mess, simply nodded, although it was not meant as an agreement.

“He’ll be here in a moment.  Just look like you’re coming out of your office, girl!”  Her father warned her.

“We’d better hide.”  Kurt whispered suddenly, and then Alona was left alone.

When Jensen returned to Dallas after the death of his father, he had shut himself in his apartment and had seen no one.  He only emerged, dressing entirely in black, for his father’s funeral.  He had sat in the church very quiet and still.  After the last sod had fallen upon the mahogany coffin,  Alona had caught up with him as he attempted to  stalk back to the limousine without acknowledging anyone.  She had reached out for his hand, and seen, with a sudden clarity that he was barely coping with his grief.  He seemed so alone –  Misha was in Europe and Jared in Boston – and his mother was busy making eyes with her brother-in-law. 

She’d returned to the Tower with him, and then sat for long hours in silence while he worked through his grief.  She pottered around the apartment, tidying a little, heating up soup when she decided he needed to eat, and listening as he told endless stories about his father – stories of arguments, and fights.




He’d always been kind to her, giving Misha grief when her brother’s teasing turned too mean and trying to include her in their games.  He had only ever shown a brotherly concern for her until now.  She knew he wasn’t an angel, and had been shocked and upset when Jensen had started bringing very unsuitable girls back to the Tower. 

But she should have been more wary, more careful not to get her hopes high.  Jensen had never had a committed relationship she was aware of.  He was obviously unhappy, hiding in his apartment, barely eating and certainly not sleeping.  It was definitely not the right time for him to start something new – but it was seductive, knowing that she was the only person allowed inside his barricade of misery, and that she had provided him some comfort.

However, things had changed.  Jared Padalecki had returned to Dallas.

Sometimes she recognized a shared feeling.  The sadness that flitted across Jared’s face, the longing she caught in quick glimpse, were the same that must be writ across her own features.  But then, she would hate him, because Jensen didn’t need her now Jared was here, he could get his comfort from him.  Jensen had still given her small smiles when their paths had crossed – and wasn’t that a bitch.  He’d refused to step outside of his apartment for days, but as soon as Jared turned up, suddenly she was seeing him all over the Tower.

Lately it seemed as though Jensen was backsliding into behavior that everyone thought he had long grown out of, and, just recently, he had started to withhold his smiles, practically snubbing her when they crossed paths.  Her child like crush had blossomed into a very deep and real passion, and his rejection hurt her to her core.  Wrapped up in it all was also worry, and sick concern that Jensen, beautiful, wonderful Jensen, might be, in some way, broken. 

She had reluctantly given up copies of his emails to her – the ones she treasured because he seemed so loving – because she wanted to help him, and her father was convinced she could.  But she looked at the hated Kurt’s significant glances towards his new wife and all she felt was that she was betraying the man she loved the most in the world. 

She stood in the doorway to her office waiting for Jensen to pass, clutching copies of those beloved emails feeling as though a canker were growing in her stomach, poisoning her blood.

***

From the security room on the floor above, Jensen and Jared watched the group part and then, for a few moments, they watched Alona, obviously agitated, loitering around her office door.  Jared, the Harvard computer science major, had quickly patched the security cameras from the lower floor into the monitors on this floor but had been unable to get sound.  Jensen watched the screens grimly and without a word.

Finally, he got up, ready to go downstairs.

“Don’t go!”  Jared pleaded one more time.  “Let’s beat them on this by just refusing to play.”

He knew his pleas were pointless.  Jensen was determined.  He wanted to cast such bait into the pool that Fuller would be unable to hold back from taking a bite.  Not even the proposed trip to the theatre was going to be enough for him.

“Just remember that it’s Alona, Jen.  Misha’s little sister. Just be gentle.”  He added.

Jensen’s eyes burned angrily.  “She’s... she’s helping him out,” he wrenched out the words fiercely, obviously and genuinely feeling betrayed.

Jared suddenly felt his simmering resentment flare up into rage.

“She’s young!  She’s been holding a candle to you ever since I can remember.  You gave her hope, and then ripped it away from her.  Every time I see her, she’s looking at you with big frightened eyes, Jensen.  She doesn’t understand, and you had no right... no fucking right... to be playing around with someone who has been like a kid sister to you.  There are hundreds of people in this building who would have fucked you if you needed to get laid, but no, you had to go and mess with that one.”

“Well, tell it how it is, Jared!”  Jensen snarled back.

“This is ridiculous!  I get it... I do... I get why you need to get back at Fuller but why does Alona have to get in the middle of it?  I can’t believe I am even here helping with this,” Jared waved a hand at the screens.  “I don’t want to and it isn’t right!”

“No one is asking you to stay,” Jensen pushed back. “In fact I told you to go home, that I didn’t want you!”

“You’re going to hurt her and Misha is going to want to kill you.  Don’t you even care, Jen?”

“Do you, Jared?  Do you really care, or is it just because you’re jealous she got into my bed and not you?”

It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.  Jared stood and stared at Jensen as the echo of those words tore his insides to shreds.  Never had he felt such pain before, not even after Jensen’s bitter sweet rejection of his kiss.  But he kept his mouth closed, despite his screams in his head, and he kept his hands to himself despite their desire to pound Jensen’s arrogant, and, at that moment anyway to Jared, ugly face into the ground.  He had never hated Jensen so much as he did in that moment.  He walked out of the room not even bothering to shut the door behind him.

Jensen felt his rising horror as he heard himself say those words and saw the damage they caused etch into Jared’s face.  He wanted to follow him out of the room, to cancel those vicious words, but something held him back.  He gazed at the figure of the girl on the screen and channelled all his bitterness into a fury.

***

Alona jumped when she realized she was being watched.  Jensen was leaning on the wall, still dressed in that ratty grey robe, staring at her hotly.  She knew instinctively that the heat wasn’t lust, and her nerves flailed around her.

“How are you, Ali?” Jensen said seemingly pleasantly but with a thin vein of menace making his voice tight.  He reeked of alcohol.

Alona gulped.  “I am well... thank you,” she responded when she found her voice.  “How are you?”  It sounded ridiculous, this formality, but she couldn’t think of any other response.

Jensen cocked an eyebrow and smirked.  “I’m good too,” he replied.

Breaking the few seconds of silence that followed, Alona held out the emails she’d been clutching in her hands.  “I want to return these to you.”  She backed off into her office

Frowning, Jensen took them and flicked through them.  Then followed her in.

“I didn’t send you these,” he said eventually.

Her eyes suddenly fixed on his in a spurt of irritation.  “Yes, you did.  You know you did.  And you said such things to me, too.  However, I don’t want them now you are being unkind.”

Her former lover continued to look at her steadily and then deliberately tore the sheets in two allowing the halves to flutter to the ground.  Then he turned his head to look at the camera in the corner of the room.

“Was I your only lover, Ali?”

“What?” 

Jensen had turned back to her with a nightmare riding across his face.

“I used to love you,” he continued brutally.  Alona suddenly started to cry.

“You sometimes made me think so,” she answered with a sob.

“Nah... I never loved you.” Jensen sadistically countered.  “You shouldn’t believe me.  You’re just not my type.  I like grown up women who can give me what I want.  Or perhaps you’ve heard the rumors?  Either way, you aren’t experienced or male enough for me!”

“You’ve been using me?” Alona accused him between her tears.  Jensen remained silent.

“You used me so you could be with Jay.  Let people think I was with you, when really its all about Jared Padalecki,”  she pushed on anyway, reaching for something to hurt him with.

Jensen laughed.  But it wasn’t a laugh full of joy.  It sounded so unhinged, so crazy, so awful.

“Oh dear God, how wrong you are, sweetheart,” he smiled wolfishly and he backed her up against a wall. 

“What... ?  Jensen...?  Stop?”  Alona pushed tried pushing him away but he was too strong, too tall, and he pressed his whole length against her, grinding his hips into her stomach.  He licked her face, from her chin to her temple. 

Then he pushed away from the shaking girl and walked across to the door.

“Where’s your father?” 

Alona’s jaw dropped in horror.  He knew.  He had to know.

“At home,” she lied, and then began to cry again as she saw all the anger drain out of him leaving behind only sadness.  He knew.

“I’m sorry...” she started to apologize, but stopped as he gently shook his head.

“Don’t get married, Ali,” he mused quietly, “If you do get married, marry a fool because he’ll never know what deceivers you women are.  You show us one face but hide another, the sluttish one.  You flatter, and make yourselves pretty, you pander to our wants and desires and you deceive us.”

But Jensen was no longer speaking to her --, he was addressing the camera directly.  He seemed so alien, so unlike Jensen.  No, whatever was going on in his head, it wasn’t anything to do with her.  So she allowed her heart to break.

***

Jim tugged his crying daughter to his side.

“I don’t think that Jensen’s problems lie with unrequited love,” stated Kurt Fuller as he looked out of the window down onto the city.

“Maybe.  He did seem disappointed and angry with  Ali,” Jim replied and he thought for a while as he consoled his daughter.  “What about Padalecki?  Unrequited love, perhaps?”  He continued his thought process out loud.

“Disgusting and unnatural as that seems, it wouldn’t surprise me.  But no... there is something else which is festering in that over-thinking brain of his and I cannot but think that this will unsettle the corporation unnecessarily if it is allowed to continue and get out amongst the shareholders.  Their loyalty to the family is nonsensical but strong.”  Alona stilled as she listened.

“Perhaps we should get his mother to talk to him?” Jim offered up.  “We’re all going to the theatre this evening.  Why not get her to have quiet word when we get back?”

Kurt spun on his heels to acknowledge the other man.

“Good idea.”

“I can listen in, and report back, and if she is unable to break him open, then perhaps we should think of sending him away?”  Alona pulled away at her father’s words.  What the fuck?  Suddenly she got a sense of an undercurrent of conspiracy.  Something else was going on here and she didn’t understand it but it had very little to do with her ruined relationship with Jensen.

“Yes.  We mustn’t drop this.  He dragged the family name in the mud the last time he pulled a stunt like this.  He is obviously unstable and that is dangerous in someone in his position, with his influence, even if he has chosen not to use it in the past.  He must be watched,” Kurt mused, convinced that his stepson had just given a performance worthy of an Oscar. 

***

It took Jared four hours to find Jensen.

He wasn’t going to at first.  He intended to return to his apartment, pack up and leave, just as Jensen wanted him to.  But after some shouts of rage, one bruised hand and a hole in the wall, his anger, always quick to dissipate, had begun to leave him.  He was tired and hurting deep to his soul, but all the painful words in the world weren’t able to break the bond he had with Jensen.  He couldn’t just abandon him now.  He could still see Jensen’s earnest twelve year old face begging his father and mother to take Jared in after his parents had been killed.  And that was just one of the memories he held that spurred him into searching for Jensen’s secret hiding places around the Tower.

He finally found Jensen on the roof, curled up in the corner by the parapet.  He had already been up there twice, and didn’t know if Jensen was now just too weary to keep hiding, or whether they had crossed paths somewhere before finally meeting here.  Jensen looked shattered and deeply unhappy, arms wrapped around his legs and his eyes closed.

“Jen?”  Jared said hesitantly not sure what response he was going to get.

The other man slowly opened his eyes and looked astonished to see his friend.

“What are you still doing here?” He asked but not angrily.  He sounded curious and surprised and very weary.

Jared took heart and slid down the wall to sit next to him.

“I honestly don’t know,” he replied, trying out a sad smile.

Jensen snorted and gave a bleak laugh.

“I thought you would be long gone.”

“Hmm.. .well... no... I’m still here.”

Jensen gave a great breath and Jared noticed with some distress that tears were welling.

“Jen, don’t!” He took one of Jensen’s hands and just held it between his.

“I’m sorry...” Jensen started to rush out.  “I shouldn’t have said what...”

“No, don’t,” Jared interrupted in a panic, “ I don’t want to talk about it.  I don’t ever want to talk about it.”   For eighteen years he had kept his silence, and in one brief, crazy moment he had given them both an unwanted glimpse into his heart.  Discussing it further would be futile.  Jensen didn’t want him, and he very definitely didn’t want to have to confront that fact.  Not here and not now, and not ever.   He just wanted to go back with everything unstated, and hidden.

The silence that fell between them was awkward and heavy, but Jared kept hold of Jensen’s hand.

“What do you think is braver, Jay?” Jensen eventually said. “To just keep on suffering or to put an end to everything?”

“What do you mean?  To end it?  Do you mean suicide?”  Jared nearly swallowed the word in dismay.  Did Jensen really want to kill himself?  Were things really that bad?

“I don’t know.  It’s just . . . It would be great just to go to sleep and never wake up again.  Never have to face any of this ever again.”  Jensen acknowledged.

Jared had watched Jensen all his life.  He knew how monstrously hard it had been for him to walk away from the Corporation and his father’s dreams and expectations for him,  certain he had failed him but trying desperately to stay true to himself. He knew that this had had a significant effect on Jensen’s state of mind.  He had seen the vacillating moods, long depressions, the odd restlessness which led to promiscuity or swallowing of substances that were unhealthy.

But most of the time their life was settled.  They shared a house in Boston where Jensen was able to get lost in his studies, where they would kick up of an evening and watch a game, where Jensen would talk for hours, smiling and excited, or where they would go running beside the river.  There were the times when Jensen shared his hopes and dreams with Jared, when he supported and encouraged Jared’s own hopes and ambitions. He might want more, and he might worry about Jensen during those other times, but Jared would reassure himself that really everything was all right – that Jensen would always be all right. 

But maybe he wasn’t really.  Maybe he hadn’t ever really been all right.  Maybe his Jensen had become lost inside.

No, no, no, no, no, no, Jared cried silently and he clutched harder to the hand he was holding. 

 “But I think I’m a coward, Jay, because who knows what lies on the other side of death?  What if it is worse than here?  The things I’ve done, I’m sure I’m heading towards hell.” 

“What things?” Jared interrupted.

“Well, I’m not sure we have time to number them all.  How about just today. Jay?  Alona... you...”

“No, Jen . . . no . . .”

“Really, Jay?  Then I didn’t just shit all over you earlier?” Jensen twisted his mouth wryly at Jared’s telling silence.   “And you can’t tell me this is the first time, either.  I know, Jared. I know how hateful being my friend is for you sometimes, and you don’t deserve it.  You are the best person I know, the most loyal, the most wise, and the most loving and all I do is shit on you and shit on you some more.  So here is my conundrum.  I sometimes think that non-existence would be a good thing for me, because it would be kind of nice to have some peace and quiet, and for you, because then you could just get on with your life and forget all about me.”

Jared gaped at Jensen.

 “However, what if there is no peace on the other side? How ironic would that be? What if existence beyond this life is just as bad and just as painful as this one.   I’d be leaving all this crap behind only for more awfulness on the other side.”

Jensen looked up into his friend’s eyes with all sincerity and seriousness.  “There, I’ve thought myself out of it. Don’t worry, Jay. I am too much the coward to ever do away with myself.”  He watched the silent tears fall down Jared’s face and reached out long fingers to brush them gently away.

“It’s OK, Jay.  I’m not going anywhere.”

Jared let go of Jensen’s hand and tightened his jaw as Jensen’s fingers stirred up electricity where they touched his skin.

He was frightened and unhappy.  This is such a fucking mess, he thought as he returned Jensen’s intense gaze, but I’ll get you out of this.  I will save you and give you the peace you want.  I swear it on the graves of my parents that I will save you.  And with that thought he sucked in a breath and got to his feet, holding his hand out to help Jensen do the same.

  


ACT THREE scene 2

 Jensen and Jared arrived early at the Dallas Playhouse, and stood waiting for the rest of their party in the corridor outside of their box.

“I don’t know why you’re friends with me,” Jensen stated as Jared paced once more past him.  “You are a far better man than I am.”

Jared stopped his pacing.  “I know!” he exclaimed and nearly danced with joy when he got a laugh in response.

“I’m not flattering you,” Jensen continued. “After all, what would be the point?  You can’t give me anything that I don’t already have.”  It was Jared’s turn to laugh at that and Jensen smiled back.  “Except your friendship, of course, and that is worth more than any billion-dollar share interest.”

“Oh dear God, I am going to puke.  Are we really doing this chick-flicky stuff?”

“Shut up!” Jensen snapped back but there was an ease in his voice that had been absent for a little while.  It was if their blow out and subsequent rooftop conversation had released some of the tightly wound tension between them.  Jared didn’t think it would last but he enjoyed it while he could.

Jared resumed his pacing.

“Quit it, will you?  You’re making me nervous.”  Jensen snapped, but good naturedly, after a while.

Jared came to rest leaning on the wall beside Jensen.  Despite the possible ramifications from this evening’s entertainment, he was feeling quite mellow, and Jensen’s warm words, although somewhat out of character, had helped soothe some of the hurt from earlier.

“I mean it!” Jensen suddenly continued.  “You never complain even when you have the greatest cause to do so, you stay so calm, always think things through, and in all these years you have only ever yelled at me... what?  Once before today?”

“Don’t!”  warned Jared, not wanting to upset his equilibrium by revisiting that particular sore point.  But Jensen had something to say and he was going to say it come what may.

“Whatever happens, Jay, after tonight, I need you to know... ”  He paused  but continued with a small wobble in his voice, stuttering and falling over his words, “ . . .you have done so much for me . . . even . . .even though I must have hurt you over and over again.  I’m sorry.  So, so sorry.  You deserve so much more and I need you know . . . you have to know, man, that . . .  ”

For the second time that day, Jared felt the oxygen being forced from the room, this time accompanied by healing warmth, but there was  fear in Jensen’s green eyes  and now was not the time to unpick everything the other man had just said to him.  Jared felt rather than knew what Jensen was trying to say.

“OK,” he said instead rescuing his friend.  “I hear you.”  And it was worth it to see Jensen’s relief shine out and to get his elbow dug into his ribs.

“Asshole!”

And then they could hear the tumble of voices and the tread of feet.

“Keep watching Fuller – see what his reactions are to the play!”  Jensen quickly said, and, with that, Jared slipped into the box.

“Ah!  Jensen, my son.  How are you?”  Kurt, massively smug, greeted his stepson in his pompous and public voice.

“Excellent,” Jensen answered.  “It’s aaaallll excellent!” and he slapped Fuller on the back.

Jared shook his head but smiled as he saw Jensen flick an imaginary piece of lint from his stepfather’s jacket.

Jensen waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Jared over Fuller’s shoulder in such a way that Fuller pulled back in disgust.  Then Jensen turned to Jim Beaver who had entered the box hard on Fuller’s heels.  He fussed for a while about the seating arrangements, congratulated the ladies on their choice of fashions, then took a long draft from a bottle of whiskey.  Only Jared knew it was full of tea, but . . .

“Come sit by me,” Samantha called softly to her son patting the seat beside her.

“Oh definitely not, my dear.  Here is something altogether more pretty to sit beside,” Jensen answered and plonked himself down next to Alona, leaning close into her personal space.  Alona was looking wan, and troubled.  Jensen smiled at the girl with his most charming smile and a spike of jealousy shot up from the depths of Jared’s stomach.

“You seem happy, Jensen,” she stated listlessly.

“Everyone should be happy.  Look how cheerful my mother looks and my father has not been dead for two hours!”  An icy silence fell over the box.

“No, Jensen, your father died several weeks ago!”  Alona corrected.

“Oh, so long!  And still not forgotten!  Why a great man might be remembered for six months or more if that is the case.”  Jensen still spoke cheerily but Jared could detect a small undercurrent of anger.  And then he saw Jensen’s mask drop momentarily, but was unable to catch the words that he muttered to Alona under his breath.  Alona started, but then seemed to relax a little at Jensen’s quiet words.  Jared hoped it was an apology, but Jensen was already turning to the rest of the party in the box with his party face fixed and ready to play.

“Have you seen “Hamlet” before, Uncle Kurt?”  Jensen asked Fuller, whose high color and ramrod straight back were evidence of his displeasure but there wasn’t time for an answer as the house lights dropped and the stage curtains peeled back to show a plain white stage.

Jared had seen the play once before, and had studied it at college.  He was a computer scientist, not a book nerd so hadn’t appreciated its subtleties then.  He sat mesmerized as Hamlet, dressed in black, exhorted his flesh to ‘melt , thaw and resolve itself into a dew’, unable to stop drawing parallels between this character acting a part and the desperate words of his own friend.  As Hamlet cried that he would follow the ghost, he remembered his reasons for sitting in the dark and allowed his gaze to turn to Kurt Fuller. Along the row, he could see Jensen leaning forward, face long and shadowed as he became entangled in the weave of words.

And then the ghost began to speak of his murder, of the vile crimes perpetrated against his body by his own brother.  Fuller shifted in his seat, and Jared held his breath as the CEO’s hands clutched the velvet clad arms of the chair.  He glared towards Jensen, breaking the spell the play held over the younger man, and for a few awful moments, the two men stared knowingly at each other.

The next minutes were scrambled and confused.  Fuller rose up, muttering that he felt ill.  Jensen’s mother fussed in consternation.  She glared at her son, instinctively understanding that the disturbance was his fault.  The party broke up.  Eventually the box was empty but for Jensen and Jared, and other patrons were throwing angry stares at the noise.  Jensen had stood as his stepfather exited the box, and was now staring down at the players on the stage as Hamlet cursed that he was ‘ever born to set it right’.

Then Jared had a vision of Hamlet lying dead at the end of the play, the house of Denmark in ruins around him followed by a prescient image of Jensen lying bleeding on the floor that filled him with such terror he could stand it no longer.  He fled the box.

***

They rejected the waiting limo and decided to walk back to the Tower.  Jensen was hyped up with nervous energy, cooing with triumph at his success.

“I should be on the stage!”  he exclaimed.  “He fell for it – caught like a mouse in a trap!”

Jared reserved judgment on Jensen’s brilliance.

“The king is dead, and a villain rules in his place!” his companion gabbled feverishly.  “Did you see him, Jay?  The ghost was right!  Wasn’t he?  You saw it, right?”

“Yeah . . . I saw it, Jen,” Jared answered reluctantly.

“Just as the ghost was talking about being poisoned, eh?”  Jensen stopped suddenly and seized Jared’s  arm, forcing him to swing round to face him.  “You saw it, didn’t you?”

Jared nodded in response.

***

The atrium was alive with people when they arrived back at the tower.  They had paused at the door, listening to a busker with a guitar singing ‘Lean on Me’ for a few moments when they were immediately assailed by Matt and Jake, obviously loitering with the express intention of meeting them on their arrival.  Jensen groaned and started to head off back down the street but they had already been seen, Jared’s height making them difficult to miss.

“Jenny boy, can I have a word with you?”  Jake said as the two groups met under the shiny Elsinore Corporation Logo above the revolving doors.

“You can have a whole book of words,” Jensen answered back quickly.

“Um . . . Mr. Fuller . . ..” Jake began.

“What about him?” came the sharp return.

“He’s not doing good.” Jake finally concluded uselessly.

“Is he drunk?”

“No, dude.  He’s mad at you.”  Matt countered.  “And so is your mother.  She’d like to see you.”

“Super!”  Jensen laughed, causing consternation in both Matt and Jake.  Jared took some comfort in their discomfort.

“Shall I tell her you’re coming?”  Matt decided to press on.

“If you want!”

“Are you going to give me a straight answer?”  

“I can’t,” Jensen replied allowing his features to affect sadness.  “I am as bent as they come.  Haven’t you heard the rumors?  But you were speaking of my mother?”

“Come on Jenny, you’re behaving like an asshole,”   Matt’s levels of irritation were growing, but Jared didn’t care.  He was quite enjoying the interlude.  Listening to Jensen outwit his former friends -- and Jared’s nemeses -- was proving too satisfactory.  He wanted to cheer his childhood friend on but restrained himself to a few small smirks.

“Mrs. Fuller cannot understand why you are so set against your stepfather,” Jake continued, obviously a glutton for punishment.

Jensen jumped in quickly at that. “Ooooh!   I’m incomprehensible to Mrs. Fuller, am I?  Amazing!  And?” 

“She wants to talk with you before you go to bed,” Matt stated.

“I shall, of course, obey my mother.  Is there anything else I can help you with?” 

“I don’t understand, Jenny,” Jake whined,  obviously unhappy that he was the object of Jensen’s scorn. “What’s this all about?”

“Hell, Jake, someone took my company from me,” Jared snorted at the obvious untruth, then immediately felt his stomach roll unpleasantly.  Jake and Matt were surely planning on reporting back to Fuller.  Jensen was deliberately making a challenge.  Both visitors made sounds of blatant disbelief.

“You’re the majority shareholder, “Jake pressed further, “You’ll be the natural choice for CEO when Fuller retires.”

But Jared could see that Jensen was tired of the game, his simmering anger beginning to boil over.

“Do you play?” He asked his two antagonists, gesturing to the busker and the guitar.

Matt shook his head but Jake answered, “You know I can’t!”

“Go on.  Give us a tune!” Jensen sneered back.  “You’d let him try, wouldn’t you?” he addressed the busker in a more pleasant tone.

“No way!  I can’t!  I don’t know how.”  Jake spluttered.

“It’s as simple as lying.  You strum with one hand and press the strings down with the other, “ Jensen explained.  The busker was helpfully holding out his guitar.

“Jesus, give it rest, man,” Jake growled, embarrassed at the growing crowd around them.

“Well now, that just makes me feel inferior.  You play me – you think you know how to strum and play my chords.   Am I easier to play than this guitar?  I don’t think so.  You can try but I know whose tune you dance to.”  Jensen’s last words were growled out.

“That’s enough, boys,” came Jim Beaver gruff voice through the crowd.  “Let’s not draw attention to ourselves, shall we?”  He shooed the curious onlookers and the busker away.

“Jensen, your mother has asked if you’d make a quick visit before you settle down for the night,” he then said.

The young man simply laughed and shrugged his shoulders at Jared.

“It’s chilly out, isn’t it?” he directed back at Beaver.

“Yep, pretty cold for the time of year,” Beaver returned, looking a little confused.

“Although I am sweating in this heat – and poor Jay, he hates the humidity – he sweats so bad,” Jensen grinned brightly and falsely.  Jared just sighed.

“Indeed, quite muggy too,” Jim mumbled and knew himself caught out.

“Tell my mother that I shall be there in a minute,” Jensen finally finished. 

“Has he taken . . .?  Is he on drugs?”  Matt mouthed to Jared, who shrugged.

Jensen waited, eyebrow cocked, until the three men wordlessly agreed that it was better they should leave and loped off into the tower.

Jensen watched them go, almost vibrating with strong emotion.  “They all think I’m a fool!”

Jared, not for the first time, couldn’t find words to answer, but inwardly had to agree and wonder at their stupidity.  No one should ever underestimate Jensen.

“I’m going to kill him, Jay.  I’m going to kill him tonight,” he didn’t need a name to know who Jensen was now referring to.  “But my mother . . . my stupid fucking mother . . . it’s time to tell her one or two truths about her role in this nightmare.” 

Fan-fucking-tastic, thought Jared, and suspected that this was never going to be over until Jensen had utterly destroyed the Elsinore Corporation from the inside.

  


ACT THREE  Scene 3




She alternated wildly in her feelings towards him.  One moment she was so worried and full of concern for him.  He seemed to have taken the death of his father and the rapid remarriage of his mother so badly, withdrawing into himself, only reaching out to her. But then came his mood swings, his mean behavior.  His usual reserve and quiet had become obnoxiously loud and wild. She had thought his own natural melancholy had become unbalanced with all that he was going through.

The next moment she was angry, and so deeply and utterly humiliated.  He refused to acknowledge her, then his attack on her.  She admitted that some of his anger towards her was justified – she was sorry now that she had allowed her father and Fuller to use her in such a way – but Jensen himself had used her too – used her to obfuscate. But this is where she found it too bewildering.  Cover up what?   His relationship with Jared?  She couldn’t discount this but not an hour earlier she had seen Jensen stand up to face his stepfather, and there something going on, something she couldn’t quite get a grip on, though it teased her mind, and fuelled her anger further, because now she suspected Jensen had used her as a diversion.  And that hurt, that hurt really badly.

A few minutes later she heard the front door of the apartment and, somewhat alarmingly, the noise of several people entering.  Low, male voices, heavy treads, then her father had called out to her.  She ignored him, just wanting to be left alone to think, but also sensing it would be politic to remain quiet.  He’d poked his head around her door but seeing her bed empty had backed out without noticing his daughter was actually sitting on the other side of the room, feet curled up under her in the big arm chair.  She was surprised when she heard Kurt Fuller’s bass tones right here inside her own home.

“My concern is for the company.  We cannot let this craziness continue!”  Fuller seemed to have recovered his equanimity since his almost apoplectic fit at the theatre.  “I have spoken to Barclay in England, and he is willing to take on our little problem.”

Alona held her breath.  What problem? Jensen? The voices seemed to be coming from right outside her door, almost as if they were in the room with her.

“If I can trust both you and Cohen to escort him there . . .”  She heard Fuller again and then the lighter voices of Jensen’s college friends in return.

“Of course, Sir.  We appreciate how worrying this must be for you.”  She couldn’t distinguish between the two of them, not knowing them well enough, but she easily recognized the oily tones of a sycophant. 

“I’ll make the sure the jet is available to you immediately, and the cash will be deposited into your accounts as soon as possible.  London has a number of attractions that I am sure you’ll enjoy.  Just make sure Jensen is delivered into Barclay’s custody,” her father now added.  There were sounds of parting and the front door slammed shut again.  Her father and Kurt were obviously standing in the hallway directly outside of her room.

“Jensen has agreed to see Samantha.  I’ll listen in and hope she will bring him to his senses.  Nothing like a mother’s love, eh?”  Jim was continuing on.

“You are convinced this is just some kind of mental breakdown?”  Fuller then asked.

“What else, Kurt?  His father has died, you married his mother within weeks, and he seems to have had a falling out with my daughter, perhaps some confusion about his sexuality  . . .”

“What if he knows?  His breakdown seems too convenient, too pointed – the play . . .”

“How could he?  The kill was perfectly executed.  There is nothing that can tie Jeffrey Dean’s death to you.”

Alona felt the blood in her veins turn to ice. Her father was talking about murder as calmly as he if were talking about a minor business transaction.

“And the play is just coincidence.  What on earth can a playwright dead for over 400 years have anything relevant to say about what is happening here in the year 2012, at Elsinore Plaza?   You know Jensen – he just loves the theatre.  I daresay it was Padalecki’s way of distracting him.”

“I’m not so sure.  We aren’t dealing with a child here.  He is not the sweet, naïve innocent that so many of our shareholders would like to believe of him.  And if he knows . . . or even suspects . . .  Don’t forget, for all his infatuation with books and history and boys, he is still his father’s son and I would suggest we don’t underestimate him, Beaver.”  Fuller was biting out the words angrily, and suddenly Alona was very afraid for Jensen’s life.  Her father might be prevaricating but Fuller was capable of murder once and he wouldn’t hesitate to do so again.  She knew this with utmost certainty. 

But her father . . .  Oh God, her father . . .What had he done?  What had he gotten himself involved in?  Once she knew the two men had gone, she wanted to go and find Jensen, to warn him, but how could she without implicating her father?   Perhaps his arguments might sway Fuller, stop him from doing anything too rash, too final.  Surely her father would want to protect Jensen.  He had grown up alongside his own children after all. 

She continued to sit, horror chilling every cell of her body, and did nothing for a while as she tried to work out what she should do.

***

Jensen hadn’t gone straight to his mother’s apartment.  He’d pulled Jared into one of the bars on the third floor and downed three tequilas straight.  His whole body shaking with nerves and his face flushed with a fever, he seemed uncertain as to his next move.  Jared tried persuading him to call the police again, because, for all his anger and burning desire for revenge, murder was just not in Jensen’s nature.  He knew that Jensen knew it too – hence the need for alcoholic reassurance.

But then Jensen’s phone started to buzz.  He pulled it out of his jeans pocket, and read intently, head bowed low.  He didn’t say anything to Jared, but when he finally raised his head, there was a new set to his jaw and tightness around his eyes.

Fifteen minutes after entering the bar, they left.

  


ACT 3 Scene 4

 Jim was not as discreet as he thought he was.  Jared caught sight of him disappearing into the security room that sat beside Jeffrey Dean’s former apartment, now Kurt Fuller’s residence.  He cocked an eye towards Jensen but his friend showed no sign of having seen the old man.

Jensen stopped briefly at the end of the corridor.

“I won’t be long,” he whispered, then went on alone to the doors.  Jensen had ordered Jared to stay outside so Jared had followed him down the corridor and finally settled against the wall opposite the door he had just seen close on Jim Beaver.  Jensen left the double doors ajar as they had negotiated, so that Jared had access in case he was needed.

He heard Jensen call out “Mother!”

“Oh, Jensen!”  Samantha cried out in reply.  She sounded upset, and nervous.  Stifling the impulse to move so he could seen through the narrow gap in the open door, Jared sank to the floor and sat to wait it out, with his knees bent to his chin.  He hoped that Beaver was settled in the security room, and that Fuller had no intention of interrupting the mother and son _tete-a-tete_ , because they would both fall over him on the way in and he knew his presence wouldn’t be welcomed.

“You have greatly upset your stepfather, Jensen,” Jared heard dismay in Samantha Fuller’s usually melodious tones.

“Mother, _you_ have greatly upset my father!” Jensen returned smoothly.  Jared had been concerned at the odd glitter in Jensen’s eyes as they had made their way to the residential floors, but he was reassured by the control his friend seemed to be exhibiting now.

“I cannot speak to you if you won’t take this seriously.”  Samantha was born of an old Bostonian family.  Her good breeding and ladylike gentility which always blew like a cool breeze, turned a touch squally as she admonished her son.

“I should not speak with you . . .” the young man countered but was interrupted.

“Why, Jensen?  What do you mean?  Have you forgotten me?”

“No, of course not, you are married to the CEO, you are your husband’s brother’s wife and, although I wish it wasn’t true, you are my mother!”  Jensen allowed all his bitterness and anger at his mother to deliver the words.  Jared winced in sympathy.

“I don’t need to hear this, Jensen,” but then Jared heard a small cry of  shock as if she had been grabbed.

“No, mother, you won’t go until I have had my say.  It’s time for you to face the truth.”    Samantha  was obviously intent on leaving, and Jensen obviously equally intent that she should not.

“Let go of me,” she hissed, and Jared was on his feet.  He hesitated because he knew that Jensen wouldn’t hurt his own mother, however angry he might be, but . . .

“Listen to me!” Jensen spat back.  But, however much Jared knew his friend, his own mother obviously did not and she shrieked out a cry for help in a voice laced with uncertainty and fear.

There was only one person foolish enough to rush in answer to her plea.  The door to the security room burst open, and Jim Beaver tumbled out in alarm, only to collide with all six and half feet of Jared Padalecki.

“Mrs. Fuller!” he cried out as he pushed violently passed Jared. 

“No, don’t!  He’s not really hurting h...”  Jared called out as he tried too late to catch hold of Beaver’s arm.  The man erupted into the room with a growl of rage.  Jared, anticipating trouble, followed swiftly behind to see Samantha struggling against Jensen.  He turned in surprise as Beaver, with Jared behind him, burst into the room, and let her go.  Off balance, she fell to the floor with another shriek and Beaver threw himself at Jensen.

Time slowed as Jared saw Jensen reach round under his jacket and pull a gun from his waistband.  _A gun?  Jensen still had a gun?_  It took  a second for Jared’s mind to clear.




“What have you done?”  Samantha said faintly.

“I don’t know!” her son replied equally strangely, “Is it Fuller?”  Jared’s head shot up to take in Jensen’s horrified gaze.  He could only shake his head in reply. 

“Oh God!  What have you done?” Samantha sobbed..

Jensen refused to look at the fallen man bleeding on the floor at his feet,  “No worse, dear mother, than kill a man and marry his brother!”

“Kill a man?” Samantha gasped.  “What do you mean?”

And then, finally, Jensen looked down.  Beaver’s last few breaths had forced blood to his lips, but he now lay with his eyes wide open and staring, unmoving and not breathing.

Jensen’s face crumpled and he staggered on his feet.  “Dear God, what a fucking idiot to burst in like that!  I thought he was Fuller!”  The words seemed angry but his voice was broken and hoarse with emotion.  He looked back up at Jared in panic, “What have I done?” but his friend still couldn’t answer.  He could only stare at Jensen, the shot still reverberating around his mind, and Beaver’s collapse to the floor on replay

“Jensen,” Samantha pleaded again.  “What do you mean?  Kill a man?”  But there was a hollowness in her tone that suggested she’d already guessed the truth.

“Shut up!” Jensen snapped back, then he started to take deep breaths, to calm himself down.  “I’ll tell you but it’ll break your heart if you have one, mother.”

“Jensen, I know that you are angry that I married Kurt so soon . . . but let me explain . . . ”

Jensen just laughed, a little hysterically, as he continued to gaze at the body on the floor.  Then he turned to look at his mother, still on the floor, tears streaming down her face.

“How can you explain?  You married two brothers, Mommy dearest.  My father, and his fuck-awful pathetic brother.  How could you go from one to the other so quickly when Dad was so brilliant, so strong, so amazing, and Fuller the complete opposite.”

She looked up stricken at that, “No, Jensen, please, you don’t understand . . .  I didn’t know . . . and your father – he was never . . .”

“Why, Mom, why?”  Jensen  crouched down beside her and caught her face between his hands.  “Was it the loneliness?  Or the money?”

“Oh, Jens--”  Samantha tried to interject but Jensen’s words overpowered her.

“Perhaps it was the power – you couldn’t bear not to be the wife of the CEO of the great Elsinore Corporation any more. “ Samantha groaned in anguish at the viciousness in Jensen’s voice.  “You were so desperate that you were prepared to marry a man not worth a twentieth of my father, and make a joke and scandal of our family!”

“Stop,  please...” she finally whimpered. 




Jensen slowly stood and approached the figure, then withered and collapsed to his knees.

“He’s angry that I haven’t avenged him yet!”  he said sadly to himself, head hanging low.

Samantha’s eyes were wide and appalled staring at the vision of her dead husband until its ghostly light blinked and then guttered. 

“This is breaking my heart, Jensen,” she breathed as the room returned to ambient temperature.

“Throw away the rotten half and keep the good one.”  Jensen answered her back.

“What would you have me do?” his mother asked quietly.

“Break it off with Fuller, Mom, don’t let him touch you again.”  Samantha crawled over to her son and wrapped her arms around him. He started to shrug them off then surrendered and allowed her to just hold him.

“You mustn’t say anything of this to anyone.”

“I wouldn’t know where to begin,” she cried.   He patted her hand then freed himself, getting to his feet.

“I’ll move the body out of here,” he said in distaste. “Fucking idiot!  At least he’s quiet now.  He always talked too much when he was alive.”

Jared moved towards him, to help.

“No, Jay.  You mustn’t have anything to do with this.  You were never here.”  Jensen smiled miserably, then turned to his weeping mother. “Jay wasn’t here, was he?  Mother?”

Samantha only now seemed to notice the tall young man, but nodded.

“But...” Jared began.

“I shall be going away, Jay.  I am going to England.  Did you know that, Mother?”  Jensen continued.

The blond woman frowned for a moment, then her brow cleared.  “Yes, that was what was decided.  It was thought to be best.  To study there – at Oxford.”

Jared shook his head in bewilderment.

“What do you mean, England?”  He asked.

Jensen pulled out his phone and waved it in front of him.  There was a text from Alona.

“Fuller is sending me to England with Cohen and Abel to be delivered into the hands of one Barclay . . . oh, yes, I see you’ve heard of him!!  But no matter. I shall have the last laugh, Jay.  They’ll not be able to get one over on me.”  Jensen laughed again, but the cracks reflected his turmoil.  He was becoming what his father had always wanted him to be – a man of action and it was, as Jared had always known it would, destroying him.

  


ACT FOUR Scene 1

Samantha had finally got to her feet and disappeared into her bedroom for a while, only to reappear with her hair tidied and makeup tidied reapplied.  She sat calmly on a dining room chair waiting while Jared paced around the room.  He hadn’t followed Jensen; he didn’t know how to anymore.

He was staring out at the black sky, when he was stirred from his reveries as Fuller entered the room and gasped in shock as he noticed the pool of sticky blood bleeding into the carpet.  Fuller raised a quizzical eyebrow at Jared and then marched over to his wife.

“What happened?  Where’s your son?” he barked.

Samantha, her poised returned, stared back at him coolly.

“I don’t know,” she answered.  “But he’s insane, and in his craziness he has killed Jim.”  Her eyes flickered briefly to Jared standing by the window daring him to contradict her.

Fuller’s face lost its color. 

“This would have happened to me, if I had been here!”  he cried fearfully. “What are we going to do about him? We should have done something before now.  I always knew he was a risk but he was your son, so I allowed him too many liberties...” 

Jared’s bile rose and his stomach churned with nausea. 

For a few moments, the CEO of the Elsinore Corporation fidgeted and agitated like any normal mortal man, then he pulled himself together.

“Where is he?”  Fuller asked briskly.

Jared shook his head and shrugged.  For once in his life, he really didn’t know where Jensen was.

“He has taken the body somewhere, and, if I know my son, he is weeping bitter tears over it.”  Samantha was as businesslike as her husband.

“Hmmm...”  the man replied in response, “We shall have the police on us soon.   We’ll have to get him out of the country as soon as possible.”  He reached into a pocket and drew out his phone.

“Cohen?” he growled after a few seconds pause.  “Jensen has killed Jim Beaver, and so we shall have to expedite our plans.  Find him, and the body he seems to have taken with him, then bring him back to me.”   Jared couldn’t hear the answer but he felt no surprise at Jensen’s former friend’s obvious acquiescence.

“Come on, Samantha,” Kurt turned his attention back to his wife, “We’ll go wait in one of the meeting rooms.”  He held out his hand to her, shaking it a little impatiently when she seemed hesitant to take it.  Then, seemingly recollecting herself, she stood, smoothed down her skirts and smiled at Jared.  Risking a tiny glance at the apoplectic face of Fuller, he smiled grimly in return and offered her his arm.

“Yes,” Jensen’s mother answered. “Let’s wait for Jensen in the meeting rooms.”

  


ACT FOUR Scene 2

Jared heard the disturbance from his chair in the Vermilion Meeting Room.  There were cries of “Jensen!” and sounds of pounding feet.  For all it was the middle of the night, the tower was fully awake, now that the tension which had pulled the atmosphere tight since the death of Jeffrey Dean had finally broken.  There was excitement though as well as the heightened air of danger.

Suddenly, three men burst into the room.  Samantha, sitting as if made of stone, coldly beautiful and fair, stood in response and turned towards them.

Jensen grinned like a maniac; the whole affair was seemingly a joke to him.  Cohen and Abel, in contrast, were red in face and puffing hard, anger casting an ugly shadow across their faces.

“What’s the fuss about?”  Jensen asked briskly with a hint of laughter in his voice.

“What have you done with the body?”  Cohen grabbed his former friend’s shoulders and shook him.

“Turning to dust as we speak!”  Jensen responded.

“Just tell us!  We need to get it somewhere presentable for the undertakers,” Matt Cohen pressed in Samantha’s continued silence.  Jared glanced at the woman quizzically, surprised at her composure.

“I don’t believe it!” Jensen returned.

“Believe what?” Abel answered, his own face now registering some confusion.

“That I would tell you both my secrets . . . you, of all people, who would run straight to my stepfather with your tales!”

Abel’s eyes widened, “I have no idea what you are talking about!”  Jared, even in his despair, had to choke back a laugh at the audacity of Abel’s lies, and Jensen’s response was similar.




“You won’t get away with this,” Cohen whined.  “You must tell us where Beaver is and then come with us to see your step-father.”

Jensen sighed in exasperation.  “Okay, okay, take me to him.”  He widened his arms in surrender.  “Come on then, let’s go.”

He spun round and exited the way he had come in, Cohen and Abel scrambling clumsily after him.  Jared paced speedily to the door then paused, waiting for Jensen’s mother.  Now that her son had gone again, Samantha seemed uncertain, her poise faltering.

“Come on!” Jared echoed her son roughly, and he followed the three men from the room, only slightly aware that the woman was following behind.

  


ACT FOUR Scene 3

“He is too popular with the shareholders, so we must not be seen to be too harsh on him.  We must make it seem like sending him away is for his own good,” Fuller’s strident tones were heard as Jared and the rest of the party approached the CEO’s office. 

Jared reached forward to grab Jensen’s arm.

“No more, Jen – he means you harm,” he whispered fiercely. 

Jensen looked seriously at Jared for a moment and, sadly, almost imperceptibly, shook his head.  “I have to see this through now . . .”

And then Jensen was pulled away from him and tugged into the brightly lit office.  Jared crowded in behind the others.

“We can’t get him to say what he did with Mr. Beaver’s body, Mr. Fuller,”  Cohen sounded like a spoilt brat who had had his every wish denied him.

“Jensen!”  Fuller turned menacingly to his stepson.  “Where is Jim, Jensen?”

“At supper!”  Jensen responded with a slight smile.

 Fuller’s face registered surprise then flushed a mottled purple as his anger rose higher still and he snarled, “Where?”   It was touch and go whether he would follow that through by striking the younger man but he seemed satisfied to grab Jensen’s clothing, heaving him towards him with a snarl. Jared pushed through the other on-lookers to get closer, not sure what he could or would do, but his protective instincts towards his friend, his Jensen, kicking in and drawing him inexorably to the centre of the action.

“Not where he’s eating, “Jensen continued calmly, “but where the old dog, himself, is being eaten!”  There was a gasp of horror at his words from the crowd – with exception of Jared, who allowed the harsh words to wash over him.  Things couldn’t get any worse, and he felt a creeping numbness begin to swallow his panic.

“The maggots are at him, as we speak.  They have wormed their way into his rotting flesh.”  Jensen’s smile was vicious.  “Worms eat like emperors, you know.  We fatten the beef and the pork in order to fatten ourselves for them.  Doesn’t matter who we are, how much money we have, we are all the same to the maggot.  We might fish with a maggot that has fed from a king and then eat that fish that ate that maggot.”

“What are you talking about?” Fuller was beside himself with rage, his face thrust so close to Jensen’s that Jared could see his spit land on Jensen’s cheek.

“Why,” Jensen said sweetly, “I’m just saying that even a king might be digested by a beggar!”

“Where is Beaver?”  Jensen’s smile faded as he regarded his stepfather.

“In heaven, I assume.  But if he is not, look for him in the other place yourself!”  Jensen spat the last words out, allowing venom to drip with every syllable.   “If you don’t find him there, you’ll probably notice the smell in a month or two coming from the broom closet on the executive office floor!”  

Fuller turned sharply away, abruptly let Jensen go and took two deep breaths.  Then he nodded to two of his men and muttered instructions to find the old man’s body.  Jensen hummed a little then threw a parting shot at their backs as they elbowed their way out of the room “Don’t worry, he’ll not move until you get there!”   He barked out a laugh, but it was laced with pain rather than with mirth.

The room was silent after that.  Jensen stood in the middle of the room, very still, waiting.  Fuller’s wide back heaved as the man tried to gain control of his anger.  Jared, heart in his mouth, and his stomach churning, reached out to touch his friend but was standing too far away.  His exploratory fingers shook as he drew them back.  Jensen, almost as if he could sense Jared’s wish for reassurance and comfort, turned to look at him.  His eyes were bright with fear, but he smiled gently.  Jared just wanted to take him away, take him somewhere safe.

“You leave me with very little choice, Jensen,” Fuller’s voice was harsh against the quiet.  Jensen broke his hold over Jared’s gaze and raised a quizzical eyebrow at his stepfather.  “This murder . . . this accident . . . it worries me, boy.  This company has been destabilized as it is . . . but . . . but if you were arrested, thrown in jail?  I’m worried for your safety and the safety of the company.”  Jensen listened without a murmur except for a brief flash of distaste as Fuller called him boy. 

“We need to get you out of the country, Jensen.  Everything has been prepared – there’s a jet waiting at the airport.  It’ll take you to England.  We can get you into the graduate programme at Oxford or Cambridge, give you an alias.”

“To England?”  Jensen repeated.

“Yes – for your own good.”

“All right – yes.  To England.”  And with that, Jensen abruptly swung about and exited the room.

“Keep him company,” Kurt Fuller, now that his anger had abated, looked satisfied now that he seemingly had a pliable and agreeable Jensen.  “Make sure he doesn’t waste any time packing – just get him on that plane.”  Matt Cohen and Jake Abel nodded their compliance and departed after Jensen, followed by the others who had congregated in the room to watch the excitement.

Jared knew that if he followed Jensen himself, someone or something would stop him.  He knew, looking at Fuller, that Jensen wasn’t being sent to safety.  Somehow he knew that Fuller was sending him to his death.  Fuller’s dark eyes challenged him to say something, to do something, to give him any excuse to come for Jared himself.  Jared shuttered down his fears, his love, and his anger.  He had to trust that Jensen knew what he was doing.

  


ACT FOUR Scene 4

Fortinbras made his move the following morning.  Still under the command of his uncle, he shunned the falling price of Elsinore Corporation shares for those of Poland Enterprises.  He was aggressive and vigorous and before the end of the day had another company in his portfolio.  If Elsinore Plaza wasn’t already buzzing with the news of Jensen’s sudden departure, the boldness of Fortinbras would have been the topic of the day.

Jared received a call later that afternoon.  In the background he could hear the high whine of the plane’s engines, but Jensen was full of the takeover of Poland Enterprises.

“Hardly seems worth it!” he commented wryly.  Jared just shrugged although Jensen couldn’t see it.

“Why can’t I be more like him?”  Jensen carried on despite his friend’s silence.  “It seems that every event is just reminding me what a coward I am.  Look at him.  All bravado - he gets kicked down, but he’s up again fighting his corner, defending his honour.  What would he do if he had reasons like mine?  He’d seek revenge without a thought to its cost. “

“Revenge is not so sweet as you think, Jen,” Jared countered.  “Look where it’s got you so far!”

“I should have just walked into his office and shot him in the head!” Jensen responded.  “Just had done with it!  Instead, I think myself into knots and tangles and make everything much worse than it could have been.”

“You could have ended up in jail,” said Jared.

“I could still end up dead! Or is that better than prison, Jay?”

Jared remained silent for a moment.

“You could have gone to the police,” he finally answered.

“And said what?  My dear old Dad came back as a ghost and told me he was murdered by my uncle! Yep, I can see them believing that.”

“You know he’s going to try to kill you too.”   Jared’s voice hitched uncomfortably as he spoke.

“I know.  I’m prepared.  I wonder if these two bloody fools know who they are taking me to.”  Jared assumed the two bloody fools were Cohen and Abel and he hummed a little in agreement.

“Just be careful,” he said.

“Always,” Jensen answered him with a laugh.  “You sound like my mother!”

“I mean it!” Jared was surprised at his quick fury.  “You think this is just about you, but if something happens to you, there are people who care for you . . .  “

“What about you, Jay?  Do you care for me?” Jensen teased lightly.

Jared couldn’t answer.

He listened to Jensen’s breaths through the phone line.

“I’ll promise I’ll be careful,” Jensen eventually said quietly.  “But I am going to end this – no more doubting.  My thoughts will be of bloody revenge or they are utterly worthless from now on.”

Jared still couldn’t answer and Jensen had disconnected before he could utter another word.

  


ACT FOUR  Scene 5

Weeks passed and Jared heard no more from Jensen.  He spent his days almost choked with fear for him, vivid images of Jensen’s lifeless body lying on the tarmac of a deserted runway flashing across his mind on an hourly basis.  He wanted to run, find Jensen but he knew he was being watched closely.  He kept his mouth closed, his eyes down and his business to himself.   But Jensen’s absence was like an abscess, a constant pain, and the recurring thought that he might not ever see Jensen again would take his breath away again and again.

At first, and immediately after Jim Beaver’s funeral, he found himself spending time with Alona.  She looked so frail, so pale standing beside her father’s grave that all his previously held jealousy was washed away.  She didn’t speak much to him initially, but since her brother was delayed in returning from Paris, and her father no longer alive, she seemed to gain some comfort in the presence of at least one of her former friends.  She barely ate, and he could hear her pacing enough at night to know she wasn’t sleeping. 

Jared didn’t know what to say to her.  She was so obviously grieving for her father, but knowing that he died at the hands of her lover – ex-lover, whatever – must also be a source of pain for her.  And knowing Jared, she must know how Jared felt about Jensen.  He could see her knowledge in her eyes when she looked at him, as if she was measuring him, perhaps wondering about him and about Jensen and about the rumors.  He couldn’t gauge how much she was also blaming him but still, she seemed to accept his presence at first and even seem to quieten when he was nearby.

After a while she changed.  She began to chatter. First she spilled over with inconsequential nothings – stories from their childhood – do you remember when? – things her father had told her – and lots about Jensen.  Too much about Jensen.  Each tale proving a knife to his heart, as he learnt of her long crush, and her delight when he finally noticed her.  The shadows under her eyes were still midnight dark, and her bones were beginning to protrude through her flesh.  The more time passed the more she harped on about Jensen, looking at him with sly, knowing glances and her words begun to gain a sharper edge.  She’d talk about the girls she had seen him with, then about how he had made her feel. Jared would pace around the apartment railing at a world in which everyone seemed to have had Jensen but him.  He was so mad at himself, mad at Jensen and mad at Alona with her triumphant grin. Mad, at least, until her face crumpled, and she’d realized how much damage she was causing her only friend.  She would apologize then and the two of them would fall into a brief companionable quiet, both stricken with unrequited love for a man who might be dead.

Then Alona’s ramblings started anew.

“Do you love him?” she asked, sitting curled on the sofa one early evening. The sinking sun was casting golden light into the room, bathing the tiny girl in glowing warmth.

“Yes,” answered Jared respecting her too much to lie.

“Does he love you?”

“No . . . I don’t know,” he replied.

“Really?”

“Really, truly,” he affirmed carefully.  “Sometimes I think perhaps he might – but then, no.  He’ll say something, or do something and I will just feel foolish for thinking he might.”

“I thought perhaps he might love me,” she whispered sadly.  “But then you came back, and he didn’t want me any more.”

Jared wasn’t quite sure what she was saying.

“Have you . . . have you and he ever . . .?” she continued.

“What?”

“Have you ever been together . . . you know, _together_ together?”

“No!” Jared answered simply. 

“No,” he said again more quietly after a moment’s pause.

“But . . .”

“No.” Jared repeated more firmly and calmly, although he was wailing inside.  Everyone wondered, everyone thought they knew.  He only wished that he knew himself.  All those years living in each other’s pockets, inseparable.  Jensen was Jared’s whole world, he hardly knew how to live without the other man, and yet every time Jared had made a move towards his friend, Jensen would always take a step backwards.  He suddenly felt a great kinship with Alona – they were both Jensen rejects.

“He killed my father.” Alona stated simply.

“Yes,” Jared answered, having nothing else to say. He certainly couldn’t deny it.

“Why?  Why would he want to hurt me in this way?” Alona’s face was pinched and her voice cracked but her eyes were still dry.

“I don’t know!” Jared said, and it was true.  He understood that Jensen had mistaken Jim for Kurt, could even explain the heightened emotions and tension in the room, but deep down in the foundations of his core, he couldn’t understand why Jensen had not gone straight to the police when he found out Fuller had murdered Jeffrey Dean.  How Jensen had shot a man and killed him.

Then Alona ran out of words.  She refused to come out of her room, keeping it dark and cave-like, and refused to eat.  Jared called the doctor who recommended a change of scene, and muttered about depression.  Jared could have told him that and saved the fat house call fee.  He fretted when he couldn’t get hold of Misha, hoping her brother would be able to talk some rationality into her. 

Finally, Alona, herself suggested a solution when she asked him to approach Jensen’s mother.  Jared was somewhat taken aback but Samantha was another woman who had suffered loss too, and he supposed that Alona hoped for sympathy and some understanding.

Always distant and cool, when Jensen and Jared had been boys, he wasn’t surprised, however, when Samantha refused to even see Alona at first.

“I won’t speak to her!” she had answered, a slight quizzical frown.

“She is very low – depressed, even,” Jared tried to persuade.  “She respects you.  Maybe, you can help her!”

Jensen’s mother looked surprised that Alona would think that she could help, and was evidently uncomfortable with the request.  She pulled her immaculately made up face into a slight grimace and almost shuddered.

“What does she want from me?” she asked.

Jared nervously brushed his dark hair from his face.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.  “She’s been speaking of her father, and of . . . of . . . others.  But sometimes she doesn’t make a lot of sense, and talks about nothing much.  It’s difficult to know what she is wanting.”

Samantha’s frown deepened.  Jared couldn’t understand Alona’s desire to speak with Samantha but, as she was his friend’s little sister, and his other friend’s maybe-ex girlfriend, he felt he had to do his best to get her what she wished.  He decided to play dirty.

“Of course, if someone who doesn’t have the Elsinore Corporation’s best interests at heart overhears her, it is possible they will draw the sort of conclusions that would look bad, or may bring more trouble to us . . .”  He allowed his voice to trail off and only momentarily felt guilty when he saw the growing horror in the eyes of his companion.  He waited patiently until Samantha shuddered more violently.

“I will see her,” the ever pragmatic woman answered.  The PR department were already trying to deal with the situation as it was.  They, and Fuller himself, would not want any further complications.  Jared couldn’t have found a better leverage than that.  He nodded and made a move to leave.

“Jared?” Samantha called out after him.  He turned and found a sad, lost-looking woman whose poise and composure, for once, had deserted her.   “Am I to blame for any of this?  It seems the whole world is falling apart, and I feel so guilty – that somehow . . . somehow, it’s my fault!  The things that Jensen said, and has done, Jim’s death and now this with Alona?”  Her blue eyes begged absolution from Jared, but he couldn’t give it to her.  She had sided against Jensen too many times to gain any forgiveness from him.  He continued out of the door to fetch Alona.

***

“Thank you, Mrs. Ack... Fuller for seeing me,” Alona held out her hand and shook Samantha’s hand.

“How can I help you?”  Samantha had regained some of her equanimity but she couldn’t hide her shock at Alona’s appearance.  The girl was wearing too baggy sweat pants and an old T-shirt of Jensen’s that Jared knew she had been wearing for several days now, and her frame was shockingly frail, her eyes dark hollows in her skull, and her long blond hair hanging lank and tangled. 

“How do you know when a man really loves you?” Alona asked.

Samantha looked quickly at Jared then refocused her attention on the girl.

“What do you mean, Alona?  Are you asking about . . .?”

“My father is dead,” Alona didn’t register the bewilderment Samantha’s face at the non-sequitur.  Jared, standing protectively beside the girl, gulped and predicted that the conversation wasn’t going to go smoothly.

“Your son killed him.  Why?  I thought he loved me.”

“I . . . I don’t know what you are meaning? Did you have a relationship with Jensen?

“He said he loved me . . . or perhaps he didn’t.  Perhaps he said he loved Jared and I misheard.”  Jared colored at Alona’s words. Samantha was completely nonplussed, but before she could answer, Kurt Fuller’s voice boomed across the room.

“Alona! How are you?  We haven’t seen you for a few days.”

“Kurt – Alona has come to speak with me.  She has been feeling quite low lately.”  Fuller circled around the visitors as his wife spoke, first eyeing Jared malevolently,  then focussing his gaze on Alona.

“She is grieving for her father – as she should.  He was a great man and is greatly missed,” he stated confidently giving the girl a patronizing smile.  Jared forced himself to stay calm and not to let his temper get the better of him.

“My father is dead,“ Alona reiterated.  “And Jensen . . . well, he shot him. But Jensen and I had been lovers until . . . some others got in the way. He took my virginity, and I just wanted to know if he really loved me or if it was just some game for him.  I thought you might know. You are his mother.”

Samantha just shook her head hopelessly.

“Oh well.  I shall let my brother know about it.  He’ll be able to help me.”  And with that she exited the room, barely making a sound.

Kurt stepped into Jared’s space, eyes narrowed and accusing.

“You should look after her.  Keep an eye on her.” Jared, wanting nothing more than to make his escape by following Alona, backed up a few paces towards the door, but then Fuller continued speaking . . . 

“This . . . depression must spring from her grief over her father.”  Jared stopped and watched Fuller.  He seemed agitated in a way Jared had never seen.  Jared was intrigued by the difference he could sense in the man.

“It’s never just one thing, is it, Boy?  One crisis always leads on to another.  Alona’s father was killed, and my stepson had to be sent away.  But now it seems that before he left he was somehow involved with her, broke her heart? He really is a toxic little shit, isn’t he?”  If Fuller was hoping to get a rise out of Jared, it didn’t work. Jared pursed his lips, eyes stormy, and stayed silent.

Fuller snorted and continued to bluster.  “He brought it on himself.  It was his own fault, but people are talking and making wild and unjust accusations against me.  What did I do?  Nothing, just helped the boy out by keeping Beaver’s death quiet.  And that’s not all, now Misha will be back in town.  God knows what he is thinking.  Always was a firebrand, wasn’t he, eh?  Jared?”

By the end of his speech he was standing nose to nose with the younger man.  Jared could smell the garlic from Fuller’s last meal, which only made the nausea rising in his stomach worse.  Fuller looked as though he wanted to rip Jared’s head from his body, but Jared could sense the man’s fear.

***

Things had gone quiet – too quiet for Jared to feel at peace, and, always at the forefront of his mind was his concern for Jensen.  He concealed his terror and fought his desire to flee to England.  He wasn’t sure why, he just felt that he was needed here in the tower and needed to be there when Jensen returned.  So he stayed, and watched.  Several times, he tried to see Alona but she wouldn’t answer his calls, or even come to her door.  He finally gave up when he received an email full of vitriol making it very clear she wanted him nowhere near her.

And then, finally was the outcry he was expecting - screams, raised male voices, thumping and banging coming from the office floors. Jared threw open the doors of his apartment and followed the noise, some prescient thought drawing him to the executive offices.  Half expecting Jensen, half hoping it wasn’t, he squeezed past panicking secretaries to find himself face to face with Jensen’s mother and her new husband, their eyes wide in fright as they withdrew into the inner offices.

“What’s all this noise?” Samantha cried as her husband called out loudly for security.  Several of the company’s security men were converging on the executive office suite where a dark-haired figure yelled, brandishing a gun.  Jared recognized the man and then moved quickly to follow the CEO of the Elsinore Corporation into the main office.

“What’s going on?” Fuller asked in a panic, closing the door firmly after Jared.

“Misha!” Jared replied. “And he isn’t too happy!”

The door burst open, and Misha, crumpled, looking exhausted, and haphazardly waving a gun stepped inside.  Several security men crowded in behind him.

“Where’s Fuller?” he shouted as he looked wildly around the room. Then, focusing onto his longtime friend, he cried, “Where’s Fuller, Jay?”  Finally he noticed the object of his quest lurking in the shadows at the back of the room.  The aim of his gun became sure and determined.

“Bastard!” Misha snarled and pointed the gun directly at Fuller’s head.  “What have you done with my father?”

Samantha stepped forward, hands held out with palms open and pleading, “Please, Misha, stay calm.”

“I am no true son of my father if I stay calm, Ma’am,” Misha snarled.

“Jesus, Mish – stop waving the gun around!”  Jared tried, but Misha was in no mood to be mollified.

“What the hell, Jay?  What are you doing here with this bastard?”

“There is no need for your anger,” Kurt Fuller exclaimed, visibly pulling himself together.  Smooth and slimy as a toad, he took a step forward, faking confidence that he hadn’t been showing until that point.  “Stand aside, Jared.  He will not hurt me.  But I don’t understand why he has broken into my office cursing and endangering our lives.”  Jared took several steps away, allowing Misha and Fuller to face each other uninterrupted.

 _“Where is my father?”_   Misha’s voice was strained and cracking with emotion, his expression wild and fierce.  Jared had known the man since boyhood and understood that Misha’s anger was covering his grief.

“Dead.”  Kurt Fuller answered..

“But not by my husband’s hand!”  Samantha added.  Misha turned to her in shock.  He lowered his weapon.

“Hush.  Let him say what he wants to say!”  Kurt was beginning to reassert himself as Misha hesitated.

“How, then? Who did it?”  Misha asked.   “And don’t fucking mess with me.  I I don’t care if I go to hell, I will tear the fucking bastard who killed my father apart.”

“And will you shoot at everyone, even your friends, just to seek revenge for Jim’s unfortunate death?”  Kurt pressed on, waving a hand towards Jared.

Misha took a deep breath, and looked at Jared uncertainly.  “Of course not.  I know who my friends are.”

“Now you are speaking and thinking with reason, young man.  I am innocent of your father’s murder.  I grieve for his loss as you do.”   A quiet fell over the room.  Misha’s breathing was still ragged.  Jared’s was heart still thumping in his chest.  Samantha found a seat and sat heavily in it.  Kurt did not remove his gaze from Misha, watching like a hawk for any hint of further danger.

Misha slowly put the gun on the desk in front of him.  He turned his puzzled frown towards Jared.

“What the fuck, Jay?” he repeated.  And Jared still could not answer him, his voice stopped by the hopelessness of his situation. His instinct was to continue to protect Jensen, but the truth was, Misha’s father had been killed by their friend.  Fuller, triumphant, looked on, knowing that Jared had no words in Jensen’s defense.

***

Wisdom, in his official duty as Head of Security, accompanied Misha back to the Beaver Apartment.  The tower’s staff, nervous but ridiculously curious, watched silently as he shuffled through the corridors.

Kurt Fuller followed, so did Jared.  He was desperate to explain to Misha what had happened – desperate and terrified, but knowing that if he didn’t, then Fuller would.  And Fuller’s truth would be twisted and skewed, and hating towards Jensen.  Although, how the real truth could be more palatable, Jared had not the faintest idea.  He felt sick to his stomach and had felt so since Jensen had fired that fateful shot.  The conflict battling it out in his head, between his friendship for Misha, the pointless, insane death of a man he had known and who had shown him friendship since he was boy, and his absolute loyalty and love for Jensen, had triggered a pounding ache behind his eyes.

Jared was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice when Misha came to a sudden halt in the apartment doorway, his slumped shoulders slumping even further.  Jared careened into the back of him, than gasped at the view in front of him.

There were flowers – the remains of flowers -- strewn everywhere across the lobby.  They had been shredded utterly, mangled stems and crushed petals covering every surface.  All four men gaped stupidly.  Then Jared heard a keening.  He peeled off from the group and followed the sound.

If he thought the lobby was a mess, he could see that Alona’s room was worse.  Along with the undergrowth, there were scraps of paper scattered – old photographs torn into strips.  Jared glanced down, and thought he could see Jensen’s smile from a simpler, happier time.  His heart contracted with a sharp pain.

Alona was a shadow in the murky darkness, but he could see her rocking backwards and forwards, and the miserable whine was evidently coming from her. 

“No!”  Misha cried as he pushed past the towering Jared, and then collapsed on his knees before his oblivious sister.

“Alona!  Is this possible?  Oh, God, what is going on?” he cried.

But Alona didn’t recognize her brother and continued crying.

“He’s dead. They buried him,” she wailed. 

Bewildered and distressed, Misha turned to his companions.  Kurt had surreptitiously slipped into the room but made no move to come forward.  Jared, suddenly aware of his looming figure, lurched forward to shield the young girl.

“Who has done this?”  Misha asked, forcing words through his emotion.

“Rosemary is for remembrance,” Alona wept, “so we must remember.”

Jared felt a lump filling his throat, and coughed to clear it.  Alona turned her eyes sharply on him, glittering fiercely in the gloom.

“Fennel’s for flatterers and deceivers, and Columbine . . . well, Columbine is for infidelity,” she hissed.  Jared jerked back under her hostile glare.

“This is rue . . . for sorrow . . . and I am so sad so there is rue for me, and rue for you,” she held out a crushed pile of greenery to her brother.

“Come on, baby.  Stop this now.”  Misha sounded as shaken as he looked.  “Let’s draw back the curtains, and let in the light.  We’ll call housekeeping and get it all tidied up.” He rose from his knees and reached out for the curtains.  Alona’s face was pale, with purple shadows hanging heavy below her eyes.  She evidently hadn’t been looking after herself, as her pale blond hair clung limply to her shoulders, and her clothes were filthy.  Jared wished desperately that he hadn’t let her harsh words drive him away.

“Wisdom,” Fuller’s deep voice obliterated the sobbing tears, and made both the other men jump. 

“Yes, Sir?”

“Get my wife – she can look after the girl,” he ordered taking complete control.  “Oh, and perhaps Dr Speight?”

“Yes, Sir!”

“Padalecki.  I suggest you also return to your quarters.  I hardly think your presence here is helpful.” 

Jared would have argued but Alona was still glaring at him, so he turned to leave, ashamed and embarrassed.  Misha caught his glance for a moment, still quizzical, but Jared knew his chance to speak first was gone.  As he exited the apartment he heard Fuller’s dominating voice, now sleek and controlling, his previous fright forgotten.

“I must talk to you, Misha.  By all mean, refuse, but ask your friends if necessary – yes, even Padalecki if you must – if what I say is untrue.  I did not kill your father.  I am not responsible for your sister’s breakdown.  If you find I am a liar, I will give you Elsinore.  But you will not find it so and I can help you.”

Jared paused to hear Misha’s response.

“I don’t understand,” Misha replied.  “I will hear you out, but why such a quick and quiet funeral – why couldn’t you wait for my return?”

“I will explain fully,” Kurt countered, “and you will know where to lay the blame.  But let’s get some help for your sister here, and then discuss it over a drink . . .”

Jared knew then that Misha was lost.  He did not doubt that Misha, his friend, would ever forgive Jensen for what he had done.  He exited the apartment silently, and blindly made his way back to his own.  Shutting the door behind himself, he leaned against the wall.  If Jensen returned, Misha – sculpted into the perfect form of revenge by Fuller -- would be waiting to fulfil the CEO’s own bloody agenda.

Jared contemplated letting it happen.  He was so tired. Jensen’s rash murder of Jim Beaver, his callous mistreatment of Alona and the sight of her so psychologically broken, had shaken the young man to his very core. He was heartsick, and pained, and yearned for his life in Boston so hard that it was a physical hurt.  In truth he didn’t know how easy it be to face Jensen again – he’d been living with a constant current of anger since Jensen had taken up his father’s challenge.

But then he tried imagining the house in Boston empty of Jensen, and that proved his sticking point.  Because, whatever Jensen had done, however much Jared hated what he had done, the thought of trying to rebuild his life without him was unimaginable. And he knew that Jensen had been trapped by the malicious tendrils of Jeffrey Dean’s influence and the malevolence of Kurt Fuller.   The moment he had returned to Dallas after the death of his father, Jensen had been doomed.

Jared needed his Jensen back and, in order to do that, he needed to get him away from the Plaza and Dallas.  After a few moments of thought, he buried his anger and made a couple of phone calls.

  


ACT FOUR Scene 6

It was three weeks later that Jared finally found out what had happened to Jensen.

A simple text.

_Meet me at the cemetery 4.30pm.  J._

Jared knew exactly where Jensen meant because it had been their favorite place to hide from the screaming, angry adults after one of their pranks.  He smiled grimly, took precautions in case he was followed (he was pretty sure he wasn’t paranoid), and was at the cemetery a full hour early.  He took up a station on a bench in the winding paths that snaked through the small wooded coppice near the southern boundary and waited.

At 4.30pm exactly, Jensen, dressed in jeans, and Black Sabbath T shirt was stood in front of him, uncertainty evident in the chewing of his lips, and hooded eyes.

“Does Fuller know you’re back?” Jared asked carefully.

“I sent him an email at the same time as I texted you,” Jensen was equally as cautious, testing out the waters, but a little agitated underneath the coolness.

Jared nodded.  He had been overtaken by a fierce joy when the text had arrived but there was awkwardness.  Jensen had a confession to make, and he knew Jared wouldn’t like it.  Jared could read it in his hesitancy.  Instead of being able to hug his friend and celebrate (after so many visions of a dead Jensen), Jared was faced with a cagey, nervous Jensen.

“What happened?”

“I killed Cohen and Abel before they could turn me over to Barclay.”   Jared’s head shot up at the coldness in Jensen’s voice as he boldly stated his crime.  “I shot them both in the head.”  Jensen was looking back at Jared intensely now, nervousness having, seemingly, vanished and with a challenge in his eyes.  “You know what they both were planning to do.”

Jared swallowed hard. He did know but that didn’t stop him feeling like he was falling into the deepest, darkest pit. At each turn, Jensen was being further and further entangled.  And with each step, Jensen was becoming less and less himself, and more someone . . . someone who could kill.  Jared, who loved _his_ Jensen more than life itself, felt his heart breaking at this loss

Jensen must have seen or felt Jared’s chilliness.  “I didn’t have any choice, Jay.  They knew what they were doing and they completely sold me out.  Some friends.”  He slowly reached out towards the younger man.  “Jay?”

Jared brushed him off.  He was shaking, and breaking and shredding his heart into pieces. And suddenly he was just done . . . finished . . . furious . . . fuck his plans, and his promises . . . fuck Jensen . . . he didn’t want to be involved any longer.

“What have you become, Jensen?”  he asked eventually, his voice shaking.  “I know you have just cause against Fuller, and that the whole thing is fucked up to hell, and I know that you were in danger from him the moment he killed your father but how does that make you a killer, Jen?  Really?  Are you a killer now?  The irony is that, at this very moment, your father would be really proud of you.  His poncy, pansy son finally found that killing spirit.” 

“Don’t you say a word against my father . . .” Jensen spat out.

“Your father was a vain, egotistical bully!  You are a hundred times, a thousand times the better man.  Or at least you used to be.”  Jared returned equally viciously.

Jensen was stricken at the anger he saw in Jared’s face.  “I had no choice, Jay.  Please.”

Jared felt himself weaken at the imploring tone, the anguish in the face that he loved so much.  But then he felt so mad with Jensen because it felt like Jensen was playing him – those large, imploring, eyes, the trembling outreached hand begging him not to be angry, to keep Jared on his side.  Poor Jared, with his unrequited love, always willing to stand by his man regardless of what crimes he’s committed.  Jared screwed his mouth up in disgust and backed away.  “You know what, Jen?  I had accepted Jim’s death.  Jesus, I had even made my peace with how lousy you were to Alona.  But this?  Is too much, Jen.  You fuck up and then you expect me to just be here, to help you and support you.  You’re taking me for granted, man.  I love you.  I have loved you since the first moment I saw you by that fountain.  I will always love you, Jensen fucking Ackles, but, you know what, you get in fucking trouble and then you lure me into it, make me your accomplice, and you always come back with those pretty pouting lips and those deep green eyes and expect me to forgive you.  I fucking love you, man but I hate you so much too. And this?  This Jensen that Jeffrey Dean would be proud off?  I particularly detest him.”

Jared walked away without turning around.

  


ACT FOUR Scene 7

He intended to leave.  He’d packed his duffle, called the airline and a taxi.  But the furor in the atrium of the tower brought him to a standstill.  Someone was wailing, the sound cutting across the hushed, horrified whispers.  He recognized Samantha Fuller in that sound, then heard the deeper tones of Misha and the world faded out . . .

_Oh God, Jensen._

But it wasn’t Jensen.  He hadn’t returned to the Tower despite his email to his stepfather.

It was Alona.  She had escaped Samantha’s watchful care and had thrown herself off the fourteenth floor balcony into the atrium fountain. 

Jared returned to his rooms and unpacked his bags.

  


ACT FIVE  Scene 1

Jensen hadn’t taken their argument well.  It was evident in his red-rimmed eyes, pale face, and unkempt hair.  It was evident in his obvious reluctance to look Jared in the eye, and in his violent trembling.

After ignoring hundreds of texts, Jared finally returned the last of Jensen’s calls.  He didn’t say a word, just listened to Jensen’s panicked “Jay?  Jay?  Is that you?” for a moment then agreed to meet up again – back at the cemetery.  He’d made his way there enveloped in the numb fogginess that had descended on him ever since a girl had fallen into a golden fountain, but there was no way he could bail on Jensen now.  He looked hard at Jensen, wondering if he knew about Alona.

They sat silently and side-by-side on the bench: Jared too sick at heart to talk; Jensen, fidgeting and anxious, too uncomfortable to begin.

“Thank you for coming back,” Jensen eventually said.  Jared only swallowed hard, not trusting himself to speak.  “I thought . . .  that, maybe . . .. You know . . . that you had gone for good.”

Jared thought he’d be gone for good too, but he should have guessed.  His very reasons for living were so enmeshed in Jensen. He doubted if there was anything the man could do that could drive him away.

The two men sat quietly, looking out over the cemetery as a pale sun cast weak shadows across the gravestones.

“Do you remember Warrington?”  Jensen finally said.  Jared did remember.  A summer spent at an excavation with Jensen as he dug a civil war battle cemetery.  He’d found the sheer numbers of bones morbid but Jensen had been fascinated, spending the following semesters buried in personal records so he could trace the lives of those he had so carefully uncovered.

“All those bones. If we ploughed through this field, we’d find the same.”

Jensen got up and paced. 

Jared watched him.

“I wonder who they all are – these bones who could once sing, and dance, and eat and fuck.”  He smiled grimly. “They could be anyone, I guess – maybe a rich man, a politician, or a petty crook, a baker, a police officer, a dancer . . .” his voice trailed off for a moment as he mused . . . “and yet here they all are, bones in a field. I guess that is where we all shall end up, whoever we are and whatever we’ve done.  Even Alexander the Great, or Hitler.  Even you and me.”

Jared continued to watch Jensen, this quiet, thoughtful, sad Jensen.  Was he still thinking about suicide?  Was he predicting an early death for himself? 

Jensen suddenly stopped and looked directly at Jared.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply.

The apology didn’t matter.  He knew he had forgiven Jensen because he here was sitting on a bench, looking at him.  He was tired though, and underneath, other emotions were  rumbling discontent.

“I need to explain . . . need to tell you things,” Jensen pressed further. “Will you listen?”

Jared nodded.

“I love you too,” Jensen continued.  Jared caught his breath.

 “I have loved you too for a long time,” Jared continued to hear Jensen’s words but was now struggling to process them.  Was Jensen actually declaring . . .

“I just didn’t know what to do with it.  Dad would have been incandescent with rage – the heir to Elsinore Corporation coming out as a fag?  That was never in his plan.  And you were so dead set against living here, and becoming part of the corporation . . .”

“That was both of us . . .” Jared interjected.

“I know, but I never thought I would get away, and I didn’t want you to stay because of me. There is such good in you, Jay, so much understanding and wisdom, and loyalty and love and you deserved more than being trapped in a tower with a man who hated his whole existence.”

“We got out,” Jared insisted.

“Yeah, because of you . . . because you were too damn stubborn to leave without me, and I didn’t want to see you choked by this god awful place.  Because I couldn’t quit you any more than you can quit me.”  Jensen came and sat by Jared again. “But I still, well, I still found it hard to shake off this place.  I left with Dad thinking I was an utter failure, and an obnoxious, immoral wastrel at that.  I made some stupid decisions and did some stupid things, and each time you still stood by me, how could I not love you for that, but I was too cowardly to let anyone else see, for Dad to think I was also one of those ‘unnatural faggots’”.

“Yeah, he called me that a couple of times,” Jared muttered.  Jensen raised an eyebrow quizzically which he followed with a deep frown.

“I got warned off,” Jared answered Jensen’s unspoken question.  “’You keep your queer hands off my son,’ that type of thing. It wasn’t pleasant. I was only in my teens, but I think I made it pretty obvious back then how I was feeling.  I told him you were only into girls – he stopped the verbal abuse after that but always gave me the evil eye whenever he saw me.”

“I didn’t know that,” Jensen replied softly.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t matter.  I thought you were straight anyway and out of my reach.  That is until you started to bring boys home as well as girls.  That hurt.  A lot.  But it didn’t necessarily follow that you would want that from me. That you would think of me the same way I thought about you . . .” Jared spoke softly.

“I did . . . I did think about you in that way, all the time. Always have, ever since I started to realize what my dick was for.  But . . . I guess I was a coward.  A one night stand my father would never know about but I couldn’t treat you that way.   I knew how you felt, knew how easy it could have been to be happy with you, but do you think Dad would ever have let us live in peace?  He would have found some way of hurting you, and of destroying everything we had in Boston.  I tried to drive you away but . . .”

“I never could take the hint,” Jared interrupted.

“I was too selfish and couldn’t push it far enough to make you go.  I needed you too much,” Jensen responded.  “Look at me now.  I thought I had finally done enough to send you away for good, but the thought of you hating me, and of never seeing you ever again, has completely undone me, and now I can only confess to loving you, as I should have done so many years ago, and apologize for all the hurt I have caused you.  I’ve been a fucking mess these last couple of days without you.

“But I don’t know how this will end, Jay. I have to see this through now to whatever conclusion.  I think I may end up as bones here in this field – but not you, Jay.  You mustn’t end here, not yet anyway. You need to grow old and have children, be happy.  You see how conflicted I am.” Jensen gave a sad laugh, then stilled.  “I need you to go back to Boston, Jay.  Forget all of this, forget me.”  But he didn’t sound very sure.

“That’s never going to happen,” Jared shrugged, “Thought I would give it a go, but something terrible happened a couple of days ago, Jen. Something awful, and all I could feel was relief, because for a moment, I thought it was you. And I realized that I was kidding myself that I could ever walk away.”

“Are you still angry at me?”

“Yes.”

“It was them or me, Jay!”

“I know.  And I am glad it was you who walked away, but that doesn’t mean I have to like what you did.”

“I still need to resolve this... I need to get Fuller.”

“I know that too,” Jared held his breath.

Jensen closed his eyes.

“You’re not going to leave as I asked, are you?” he said.

“No.   Do you really want me to?”

Jensen smiled – a small tight smile, but a smile nonetheless.  For Jared, it was like the sun coming out.

“No, I’m selfish and I want you to stay.  But also I want you to stay alive and, if you remain here, then you will be in the firing line yourself.  Fuller will not stop until I am dead, “Jensen’s gaze was serious.

“That’s not all,” Jared interrupted again, because it was obvious that Jensen didn’t know.

Jensen paused.

“What?”

“I’m sorry, Jen.  Misha returned from Europe gunning for the man who killed his father.”

Jensen pursed his lips a little but shrugged, as if he had expected that.

Jared allowed the silence to sit for a while, while he got the courage up to say what he had to say next.  His head was still full of Jensen’s confession, and he knew that his next words would wipe out the burgeoning hope that had warmed his heart albeit momentarily.

“Alona killed herself three days ago.”

Jensen shook his head in denial, backed away.  He tried to answer Jared but he couldn’t shape his words.  He started shaking so badly that Jared feared he was about to have seizure or something, and then, still without having said anything at all, he promptly vomited, crumpling to the ground as he did so.

Jared gathered Jensen close to himself, unmindful of the mess, and wrapped his whole self around his friend as he shattered into a million pieces.

“Oh God, what have I done?” Jensen finally cried when his lips could utter a sound.

***

There was no more talk of leaving or staying.

Jared walked back with a silent Jensen to the hotel where he was staying.  Then he listened as Jensen railed, screamed and shouted hatred at the world and at himself.  He wiped away the tears that fell in floods of grief and bitterness.  He held Jensen’s self-loathing and shaking body long into the early hours.

As the sky began to lighten, Jensen quietened, but Jared didn’t let go.

***

Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki walked into the Atrium of the Elsinore Plaza at 10:20am the next morning.  Jensen asked to speak to Misha.

Exactly twelve minutes later, Misha exited the elevator, flanked by Kurt and Samantha Fuller and at least four members of the security team, including Wisdom.

Jared moved in front of Jensen immediately, but was pushed aside.

“Misha . . .” Jensen began, his voice soft and full of emotion.

“You dare to show your fucking face around here?” Misha, snarling, made to jump forward but Fuller’s heavy hand fell on his shoulder and he paused.

“I’m sorry.  I thought . . . I never meant to . . .  I did love your sister. She was sweet, and kind and balm to my sore nerves after . . . you know, my father’s death and . . . the . . . the wedding.  I’m sorry.  I was lonely, and Jay was in Boston.  I can’t bring her back, but I will do whatever you want me to do.  Please Misha, you are my friend and I would never knowingly hurt you.  Please give me some time; just listen to what I have to say. “

Misha roared, and struggled hard against Fuller’s arm and then those of the security guards.

“I know you can never forgive me, but please just hear me out . . .”  Jensen pleaded again.  The lobby was again filled with curious onlookers but Jensen didn’t care. He took several steps towards his old friend. 

Samantha placed a beautifully manicured hand on Misha’s chest. “Please, Misha, Jensen is not well, he has not been well for a long time. He didn’t know what he was doing . . .” she began to plead, but Misha was not listening, hatred burning in his taut, shaking body.  He viciously shook free of his restraints and threw himself at Jensen.  The two men collapsed on the floor, a tangle of flailing limbs.

Jared intervened immediately, his extra height and weight giving him the advantage to pluck Misha from Jensen easily, but he got an elbow in his face for his effort, and Misha was able to break free and lunge forward again to fasten his hands around Jensen’s throat.  Jensen didn’t fight back, his hands hung loosely at his sides, but his face flushed red, and his eyes were wide.  Jared shook the stars from his head and grabbed the attacking man.

“Let him go, Misha,” Jared muttered quietly in Misha’s ear.  “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will not let you touch him.”

“Do you have any idea what he has done?” Misha spat as Jared pulled him back and away from Jensen. “Of course you do!”  Misha swivelled round to look at the taller man.  “It wouldn’t matter to you, would it?  He can’t do any fucking wrong for you.  Grow up, Jared, he’s never going to wanna fuck you, however much you blindly accept his faults.  He’s a bastard and he killed my father and sister.”    

Wisdom came forward, signalling another security guard to do the same.  He pried Jared’s hands from Misha and pulled the smaller man back and away.  Misha looked exhausted and out of any more fight and let Wisdom lead him away.

Everyone else, including the audience of overly interested employees, remained grouped around a still gasping Jensen.  Fuller was looking coldly at his stepson, and Samantha had finally lost her cool detachment looking from one to the other in distress.

“I’m turning myself in,” Jensen eventually wheezed looking directly at Fuller.  Only Jared and Jensen saw the fury rise in Fuller’s grey eyes.  They both knew that he understood what Jensen’s actions would mean.

“Samantha – you’d better look to your son.  He’s been injured,” and with that he turned and steamed a path through the parting crowds, his wife gazing horrified after him.

  


ACT FIVE Scene 2

Jared shut the door on the rest of the Tower and sighed heavily.  “That went well!” he stated calmly.

Jensen raised his eyebrows, picking at the gauze on his forehead.

“So Fuller’s going to up his game.  He’s coming for me, Jay,” Jensen said quietly.

“I know.”

Suddenly Jensen was in his space, so close he could feel his heat. 

“This could still get very ugly.”

“Yeah . . . it could . . .” Jared breathed deeply as Jensen tilted his head to look intently up at him.  And there was purpose there too, Jared could see the invitation in Jensen’s eyes.  His heart skipped several beats.

“He’s wrong.  Believe me, he is wrong.” Jensen whispered as he brushed his lips feather-light across Jared’s jaw.

“hmmm . . . who?” Jared reacted slowly, his brain already turning to sludge.

“Misha,” Jensen replied even more quietly, “He was wrong. I _will_ fuck you.”

Jared had already gotten the message but a curl of warmth wound its way down his body at Jensen’s words.

“I’m so sorry, Jay.  I should have done this so long ago.”  And then Jensen was kissing him, strong and deep. And he was pressing his long hard body right up against Jared’s, until Jared couldn’t tell who was who any longer.  Suddenly he had everything he wanted right there wound around him, warm, seductive and beautiful.  Still, something held him back.

“Jay?” Jensen pulled back a few inches, frowning and bewildered at Jared’s unresponsiveness.  Jared finally raised his hands to frame Jensen’s face.  He was so scared that this was all he was ever going to have, that he was going to lose everything in the cold light of the morning just as he got the chance to love Jensen as he always wanted to.

“Did you love Alona?” Jared asked.

“She was Misha’s kid sister.  Of course I loved her . . . but not, not like this Jay.  I missed you so much, and it was so awful here, watching that bastard, Fuller, chasing my mother, and she was sweet and good . . . I know I shouldn’t have, but you weren’t here. And then I was so mad because I thought she was plotting with Fuller . . .” Jensen stopped trying to explain himself.

“You weren’t here . . . that’s all,” he finally concluded.

“Tell me this isn’t some game . . .” Jared said eventually, his voice wrecked with emotion. Jensen pulled back further, and Jared shivered at the chill that replaced Jensen’s body heat.

“Tell me that you don’t think you are going to die in the next couple of days, and that this is the charity fuck for the poor kid whose followed you around his whole life worshipping and adoring you.”

Jensen licked his lips and moved back further, but didn’t take his gaze from Jared’s.

“This isn’t a game and this is not some reward for long service.  This is me finally growing up, Jay, and choosing what I want, and who I want to be.”

Jared searched for the lies, and equivocation, but found only sincerity in Jensen’s expression.

“I’m done trying to be what everybody wanted me to be.  I’m not the son my father sought, not the CEO the shareholders pleaded for.  I just want to be what you want me to be.”

Jared began to shake his head, opening his mouth to deny, but Jensen was back, fingers over Jared’s lips.

“Shush, that’s not what I meant. Because you only want me to be who I really am.  You love me.  Just me.  And I am done with being anyone else now.”

And despite everything, happiness flooded Jared and he wrapped his arms round Jensen, drawing him closer again. 

It was barely past noon, the Texas sun still shining brightly through the windows of Jensen’s apartment.  Jared groaned, seized by a desperation born of long years waiting, and the knowledge that they might not have a lot of time left.  He wanted Jensen desperately, and was confident that those feelings were reciprocated, but here?  Now?

Jensen, gazing up in wonder, trailed his fingers down the side of Jared’s face and neck, every touch so delicate but setting Jared’s skin on fire, and then Jensen’s lips followed his fingers, first tugging at Jared’s mouth, then wandering maddeningly down to the pulse at his throat to pull and suck at the skin there.

So yeah, it was definitely going to happen both here and now.

He tugged Jensen in even closer, as if he wanted their cells to merge, and could feel his own hardness mirrored in the feel of Jensen’s own erect penis.  He had always had a fantasy which had involved slowly taking Jensen apart, reading Jensen’s body with his hands, his eyes and his mouth until he was as taut as a violin string, trembling with Jared’s playing and a deep sense of pleasure.  It was going to be epic, and beautiful, and Jared was going to hang his head the following morning, embarrassed but delighted, as Jensen declared his love-making heavenly and perfect.  But Jared recognized that it wasn’t going to happen like that – at least not this time – because both their bodies were speaking an urgency of need and want, desperation and fear. 

Jared tore at Jensen’s shirt, anxious to get at the smooth skin that lay underneath, Jensen wincing as Jared’s nails caught accidentally on his upper arm. He found himself falling as Jensen shoved him down onto the couch.  Jensen paused for a while, looking down at him, and, the desire Jared could see in his eyes, stole his breath.  Suddenly, Jensen was throwing himself on top of Jared, lunging for his mouth as if he would die without it.  They fought and struggled with each other to remove their remaining items of clothing while their teeth clashed and their lips bruised.

Jared gasped with the sheer intensity of having Jensen this close, slipping and sliding against him.  Everything else in the world beyond faded as he focused exclusively on Jensen – the softness of his lips and the bite of his teeth, the tickle and shiver of fluttering fingers, the barest butterfly touch of his lashes against his chest,  the fiery heat of bare skin against bare skin,  the soothing coolness of a curling tongue and the burn of probing fingers, the strong and sure breach, and an explosion of bright lights as Jensen thrust himself into the very depths of Jared’s being. 

 “Should have done this way sooner,” Jensen whispered with a blinding smile, and a dangerous glint in his eyes before he drove deeply into Jared’s body.

***

Jared woke as the early morning light began to shine through the uncurtained windows.  Disoriented at first, it took a few moments to realize he was lying on the floor, tangled up in a knot of limbs.  Naked entangled limbs, slightly on the chilled side, and definitely feeling a little rank.  He shifted slowly, trying not to disturb the other man, but huffed in pain when he realized not only was he trapped against the floor by Jensen’s dead weight but also suffering from a numb arm.

“Jen . . .” he croaked out, and then repeated when he didn’t get an answer at first.  “Jen!”

Jensen snuffled, his face buried in Jared’s neck.

“Jen!” Jared tried a little more forcibly.

“Wha?”

“Gerrof me . . .” he heaved and rolled them both over, Jensen moaning as his back hit the floor.  Jared, leaning on his elbow, looked down at Jensen who slowly pried his eyes open.  In a sudden rush of tenderness and love, he bent to kiss his lover gently on dry cracked lips.  By the time he pulled back, green, green eyes were staring at him solemnly.

“We should move – this isn’t very comfortable,” Jared said, although he couldn’t remember when they had fallen off the couch onto the floor.

“Hmmmm,” hummed Jensen, but he allowed Jared to pull him up to his feet. 

“Come on . . . bedroom,”   Jared was stiff and sore, and he noticed Jensen frowning.

“Issa good hurt,” he mumbled.  “Verra good hurt . . . don’tcha worry, Jen.”  The sex had been a little wild and frenzied, but oh so very good.  The bruises and pain just reminded him of his satisfaction.

Once they were in the bedroom, Jared drew back the sheets and pushed Jensen down.  Jensen was asleep again almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.  He looked so young and childlike, long lashes laid on his cheek, his face smoothed of lines.  He looked as he had when they were both boys, when Jared first realized that he loved Jensen more than anything else in the world.  Then, as now, there was vulnerability in Jensen’s fragile peace, and Jared was consumed with love and protectiveness.

Jared shook himself from his reverie and then padded to bathroom for a wet cloth.  He grimaced as he quickly cleaned himself up, and then returned to the bedroom to do the same to Jensen.  He thought about the coming day.  They had merely put off the inevitable, hiding out in Jensen’s rooms, but he knew that Jensen would insist on facing Fuller today.  Jared considered his options as he wiped down Jensen as carefully as he could.  He had made a promise to himself – a promise to make sure that Jensen escaped unharmed.

“Stop thinking so loudly,” Jensen suddenly said, surprising Jared at his waking. “I thought overthinking was my problem.”

“Did I wake you?” Jared asked.

“Yes, you did!”  Jensen’s grin cut through Jared’s melancholy.  “But I am happy to wake to this any time.”

Jared’s lips twitched.

“You idiot . . . come here,” Jensen hauled Jared back down on the bed and wrapped himself round him.  They lay there, content to just lay there enveloped in each other’s warmth.

“If you loved me all this time, and knew I loved you – why the hell didn’t this happen earlier, Jen?”  Jared understood really – the family’s obvious and open disgust of homosexuality, the expectations of being the heir to Elsinore, his desire to protect Jared, and, as he got older, the sense that he wasn’t worthy . . . he knew it was a whole pile of hang ups and misfortunes.  Unsurprisingly, Jared’s question went unanswered, but it no longer mattered.  Jensen was where he belonged.

“Whassa time?” mumbled Jensen into Jared’s ear making the other man shiver.

“Uh . . . early.”

 “Time enough then . . .” Jensen said into the silence, and flipped Jared over onto his back.  Jared looked up into glittering  eyes, then stopped breathing as Jensen gently grazed his lips against his. 

“Thank you,” Jensen whispered.  Jared smiled softly.

“And I love you.”

Jared couldn’t help but return the sentiment.  Jared continued to smile as Jensen continued to kiss him.

Before the sun had fully risen, Jared’s fantasy of gentle, slow and heavenly love making was fulfilled.  Only in reality, it was Jared who was taken apart.

***

“I don’t regret Matt and Jake,” Jensen called through from the bedroom.  “They knew what they were doing and were not hesitant in accepting Fuller’s money.”

Jared found his T-shirt in the pile of clothes in the living room, but kept his silence.  He appreciated Jensen’s survival instincts – how could he not? – but this was still a sore matter with him.  He pulled the shirt over his head.

“And I will do what is necessary to bring down Fuller – he’s a criminal and murderer – and all for the sake of money and power.  I want him in jail but, if necessary, I will kill him.  It would be worse to let him live.”

Jared silently agreed with this one, feeling that he probably could exact revenge on Fuller himself – it was, after all, Fuller’s murderous actions which had forced Jensen to return to Elsinore Plaza and set this tragedy in motion.  His sole purpose in life now was saving Jensen, and he would do whatever he needed to do in order for that to happen.  But he feared that Jensen would get there first.  For all of Jensen’s newly found calmness, Jared knew he wanted to see it through to the end.

“But I am sorry for Misha,” Jared jumped to find Jensen standing close by.  “I cannot blame him, because he has as much cause to be as angry as I have, if not more.  I was stupid, Jay.  A stupid, hateful idiot, and two people he loved are dead because of it.”  His face was full of sorrow, and Jared reached out to hold him close.

“You are the only good in my life,” Jensen muttered into Jared’s shoulder.  “I feel sick to my heart. But it doesn’t matter . . .”

“No, Jen . . .” Jared felt Jensen’s tears dampen his shirt. 

Jensen chuckled, but the laughter didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m behaving like a girl . . .”

“It’s not too late to change the plans. If you don’t like it, we can get out of here quietly and call the authorities when we are a long way from here . . .” Jared took hold of Jensen’s shoulders and almost shook him.  In just a few moments, Jensen was planning on going down to the Executive Offices and openly accuse Fuller of murder.  It wasn’t what Jared wanted to do but he was going to see it through with Jensen.

“Not a chance, Jay.  I know you are afraid, and I know that there is a chance that either Fuller or Misha will try to kill me.  But we all die someday, what does it matter if it happens sooner rather than later?  I am ready for it.  I’ve spent my whole life contemplating my existence and its meaning, and I still haven’t got a clue.  So why should I worry about leaving it behind?”

Jared was too choked up to reply.  He wanted to ask why his love wasn’t worth living for, and to rail at Jensen’s acceptance of his possible death when his death would leave Jared behind lonely and miserable and empty.  He couldn’t imagine life without him, wouldn’t want to live without him.

As if guessing the direction of Jared’s thoughts, Jensen’s head shot up, an angry shadow darkening his eyes, and his jaw setting into a firm challenge.

“Don’t you fucking dare!  You hear me?  I am not worth dying over.  If you love me, Jared, grieve a little and then move on with your life.  I brought this on myself, and I will meet the end in whatever way it plays out.  But you, Jay,” Jensen choked on a sob, “you have to carry on.  I couldn’t bear to face this if I thought I was taking you down with me.”

Jared felt his heart breaking, such pain as he had never felt before now he had experienced happiness.  He clung harder as if he could trap life itself within Jensen’s frame until Jensen finally separated them.  They looked at each other, desperate terror and longing raging in their expressions, then Jared took a deep breath.

“I love you, Jensen Ackles,” he said clearly like he was announcing it to the whole world.

Jensen responded with a fortifying inhale for himself, then said,

“OK.  I’m ready.  Let’s go.”

***

The executive office suite seemed empty.  Lights were blazing, but the usual bustle was absent.  In fact, it felt like the whole tower was holding its breath, so quiet and uninhabited were the corridors and cubicles.

Jared and Jensen walked purposefully toward the CEO’s office, once belonging to Jeffrey Dean, and now to Kurt Fuller, and where all that time ago, Jared had first seen the fateful ghost.  There wasn’t a sound but Jared had no doubt that this one office was occupied.  He brushed his hand against Jensen’s as they approached the dark wooden door, and was rewarded with a grim smile.  He noticed that Jensen’s breaths seemed unsteady but he was very calm.  Somehow that terrified Jared even more than obvious panic.

Jared had shut the door behind them before he became aware of an awful stillness in the room.  He turned to find Misha holding a gun directly at Jensen’s head.  There were three others in the room too.  Samantha huddled in a chair behind the desk, her hair dishevelled and her face worn, as if she had gained ten years overnight.  Fuller was standing, chin jutting in challenge, beside her.  Jared recognized Wisdom standing to one side and nodded.

Jensen faced Misha unflinchingly, even though Misha pointed a gun directly at him. 

“I ask your forgiveness, Misha, for I am to blame for your losses,” he said.  “I have no excuse except that I wasn’t in my right mind.  All this shit that’s been going on here – you know of it as well as I – and then I found out the truth . . .”  Misha looked a little more uncertain but the gun didn’t waiver.  Jensen turned his gaze to Kurt Fuller.

“I found out that the bastard who stole my company and married my mother, also murdered my father.”

Fuller’s eyes bulged with fury.“How dare you?”  he blustered, but Jensen continued to speak to Misha.

“I went a little crazy, Mish,” Jensen continued, “and didn’t really know what I was doing. I am so sorry.  I never intended on killing your father – I thought he was Fuller.  And Alona . . . I cannot and will not ever forgive myself for the way I treated her.  I thought she was helping him. I was paranoid.  Jay tried to tell me but I wasn’t listening to reason. But I am going to do what is right now...”

Misha still didn’t respond but he had dropped the gun barrel a little so it wasn’t directed at Jensen’s face.  Doubt seemingly shaking his previous conviction, he began to realize that his understanding of events at Elsinore had been tainted – that it was Fuller, not Jensen, who was the root and cause of the tragic destruction of his family, even though it had been Jensen who had pulled the trigger.

Fuller, sensing Misha’s hesitation, roared his wrath, produced a gun from God knew where and fired at his stepson.

For a few moments it was as if time had stopped.  Jared and Samantha both leapt forward as Fuller’s finger pulled the trigger.  Jared hadn’t noticed Jensen’s mother rise and creep around the room as Jensen had asked for Misha’s forgiveness, but now she reached her son first, shoving him hard out of the way as the noise of the shot ricocheted around the room.

Jensen caught his mother as she fell.  Fuller’s bullet, meant for Jensen, had been intercepted as she’d thrown herself in front of her son.  A red stain seeped through her silk shirt as the life faded from her eyes.  She died instantly. 

Jensen lowered her gently to the floor.

The only sound was the quick breaths of five men stunned into immobility.

“Samantha!”  Fuller stared down at her lifeless body as Jensen glared up at him in fury.

Misha turned to the outraged Fuller, and seeing him aim again, turned his own gun on him and fired.  Fuller instantly returned the shot.  The bullet hit Misha in the stomach and he crumpled to the ground with a soft exhalation.

Jared fell to his knees beside him, tearing at his own T-shirt to pad the wound.

“I wouldn’t bother.  I should have listened to you and Jen when you told me to get . . .” he coughed, blood bubbling from his mouth, “out of Elsinore.  But I was seduced by the money and the power.  Jesus, Jen.  I’m sorry I became part of this.”  Jensen nodded, his face registering his horror.  Jared felt Misha’s last breath with a pang.

Across the room, Fuller was struggling to breathe after Misha’s bullet had entered his lungs.  He was half sitting, half leaning against the wall, a bright smear of blood painted above him where he had slid to the ground.  Despite his obvious pain, he glared murderously at Jensen.

Jared watched the CEO’s shaky hand raise the gun again.  He scrambled to his feet, shouting Jensen’s name in warning, just as a further two shots rang out.

Wisdom stood over Fuller’s dead body, gun still smoking.

And red was flowering over Jensen’s chest where Fuller’s bullet had entered.

***

The scandal following the collapse of the Elsinore Corporation was immense.  The deaths of the three remaining family members, all seemingly at each other’s hands, was sensational news, and, coupled with the entanglement of the Beaver family, ensured the story was the main topic of international news programs and gossip sites for weeks.  Once Jared had also explained the circumstances of Jeffrey Dean’s death, the story seemed to gain new feet and just ran and ran. 

Jared stayed in Dallas only long enough to ensure that Wisdom wouldn’t suffer the consequences of his fatal shot, and to watch a stone memorial, carved with the name of Jensen Ackles, be raised in the same cemetery where they used to play.

Then he turned his back on the tower, and Dallas, and never returned.

  


EPILOGUE (Sorry Shakespeare)

Jared stood looking out over the sea.  The waves were sparkling blue, dancing in the light wind.  He breathed in the salt air deeply allowing it to clear out the fustiness in his head.  He’d been struggling with a particular program for hours, until he could think no more.  He had pushed his chair back and headed out through the French windows and down through the garden to the cliff edge.

Apart from the seagull cries, it was peaceful and quiet – a long way from the bustle of the city.  Behind him were bleak hills softened with a purple blanket of heather, and the comfortable stone cottage he had made his home.

He hummed contentedly to himself for a little, then strolled along the cliff top and back to the house via the garden boundary.  In the fields just beyond were a few scattered cattle, their long coats ruffling in the wind, and in the far distance, Jared could see his nearest neighbors, a good couple of miles away.

He ran his own software development company.  No need for offices, just an internet connection, and he was all set.  It gave him a comfortable income and a great deal of satisfaction.  It also meant that he didn’t have to travel too far from home.  He made the odd trip to the supermarket twelve miles away for bulk supplies but relied on the village shop and deliveries to meet all his needs.  There was still the odd occasion when Jared Padalecki was recognized as that guy involved with the Elsinore tragedy and he was disturbed by the memories that stirred up.  However, he had been practically in hiding for ten years, and Elsinore Plaza (since renamed Texas Federal Bank Tower) and the murders committed therein had faded from everyone’s memories.

He stopped to admire the view some more – he would never bore of the scenery.

“I swear to God, if I have to read another line of that awful diary, I will kill myself,” Jensen muttered, snaking long arms snaked round his waist.

“Not funny!” Jared responded and turned to face Jensen.

The ten years had been kind to Jensen – just a few extra crinkles at his eyes – but the lifting of the weight, of being the heir to the Elsinore Corporation, had made the biggest difference.  He no longer bore the name Ackles, and he laughed more because of it.  Jared also hoped that he had played his part in the healing of Jensen, that and their ten years of loving.

“Sorry,” Jensen pouted insincerely, looking up through his lashes into Jared’s sober gaze.  Jared grinned and kissed him soundly.

“Asshole,” he exclaimed as Jensen kissed him back.

Wisdom had been the key.   While Jared had hoped to get Jensen out of Elsinore Plaza uninjured, he hadn’t counted on it.  Wisdom, under instruction from Jared, had ensured he was present at that final, fateful meeting.  He was ostensibly Fuller’s bodyguard but, in reality, he was there to protect Jensen.  Everything had happened so fast that he couldn’t stop Fuller shooting Jensen but he had ensured that Fuller couldn’t hurt anyone else.  He had then gotten a heavily-bleeding Jensen to a doctor who could be trusted to keep his silence if given a suitably persuasive fee.

Jared talked to the police.  With all suspects dead, there was no need for an investigation, and there was no-one in the family left to ask questions.  They accepted his story and a faked death certificate. Then he had presided over a funeral with a closed, but empty casket, large sums of money passing into the undertakers hands. 

Each evening, for four days, Jared would leave the city centre, and questions and frenzied media circus that the killings had stirred up, to sit by Jensen’s bed in a house in the Richardson and pray that he wouldn’t die.  It was close, but eventually, Jensen strengthened and rallied.  As soon as he was well enough, Jared flew him out of the country with a false passport that Wisdom had managed to source from somewhere, and accompanied by the gruff former Head of Security.  His debt to the man was immense.

Jared stayed behind, the focus of the media’s attention, the last remaining mourner at the memorial, and the last shareholder, as the company was broken up.  Then he had followed Jensen across the Atlantic, to Wester Ross on the North West coast of Scotland, with what remained of Jensen’s assets, and the profit made from selling Jared’s own share of Elsinore Corporation to Fortinbras Holdings.  Jeffrey Dean must have been turning in his grave, but Jared didn’t care.  He did everything he did for Jensen, to make sure that Jensen would never have to return to Dallas.

And so, there they were, still in the white painted house that looked out on white sands and blue water, the house that Jared had found in those first horrendous days.  Jared worked at his software and Jensen wrote his history books.  It had taken a while for the nightmares to cease, and self-recriminations to fade, but Jensen had finally found his peace. 

“Okay, I’m an asshole – but you love me really,” Jensen chuckled, and skimmed his fingers along Jared’s jaw.  Jared gasped at the fire Jensen could still ignite in him just from the simple touch of his fingers. 

“Yeah, I really do!” Jared replied and Jensen grinned, bright and gorgeous, and watched his Jared gaze back with loving eyes.

  


The end.


End file.
